A Field of White
by CaptainOfMyShip
Summary: "Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked." Mello is always second best to Near, but when Near's albinism leaves him going slowly blind, he begins to rely on Mello in ways he never thought he would. MelloxNear
1. Loosing Control

Summary: "Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked." Mello is always second best to Near, but when Near's albinism leaves him going slowly blind, he begins to rely on Mello in ways he never thought he would.

Only the first few chapters are edited.

Title: **A Field of White**  
>Category: AnimeManga » Death Note  
>Author: chana080310<br>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
>Genre: RomanceHurt/Comfort  
>Published: 01-27-12, Updated: 05-30-12<br>Chapters: 18, Words: 59,637

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

Near's POV

Its about control, really. I have noticed, in what little time I have spent in the outside world, that things have a tendency to shift around us. When I was small- smaller, that is- I would play the What If game. What if my mother died? I imagined I would be crushed, that I would feel a crippling wave of shock and there would be a ripple as the world readjusted around her loss. When she did die, I was simply told and it was almost shocking how little else changed. I am stubborn, more so that Mello, although it would never be guessed from looking at the two of us. I changed myself to be as outwardly impassive of the changes life made as life was about making those changes. It made us even. I refused to lose control, even if it was for the sake of a happy afternoon from which I would return, red-faced from laughing like the other students always did.

L taught me to play the percentage game instead of the What If game. It was colder, and nothing could take me by surprise. I surrounded myself with nothing, stripping the color from my walls, bedding and belongings. No distractions. It took a while before I realized that, as much as I looked like and came across as a blank slate, there was no way for me to truly go without distractions, so I began to allow myself toys. Insultingly young toys meant only to stimulate my hands, without really distracting my mind.

The other children wandered into and out of my space, never touching anything except for Mello, who made it a point to soil everything I had bleached clean of distractions, and Matt, who seemed in awe of my ability to remove myself from the world; a trait I knew he envied and tried to emulate with his games, though I never cared to ask why. In and out, people flowed around my life, as did events, the passing of my birthdays, the death of one of my classmates, whose funeral I attended in blinding white. Walking home, I saw a patch of grass and dirt that had somehow turned white, bleached with chemicals or dyed with paint, I did not know. I had received a camera for my birthday, from Roger, the only one who marked the passing of such events, aside from me, and I did not see it as a day to celebrate. I slipped it out and took a quick picture, the first in the camera. When I got back to my room, Matt and Mello were exiting it, Mello looking triumphant, and Matt simply guilty. I could smell the permanent marker before I even entered and was not surprised by the long streaks of black that marred everything I owned. I stripped my bed, replacing the sheets and blankets before scrubbing my walls and furniture. Moving to the carpet, I considered different ways to remove the stains before someone cleared their throat at the doorway, catching my attention.

"Hello, Mello." I said without turning around, knowing it unnerved the attention craving boy, and really, who else could it be?

"You almost done? Roger sent me up to see what you'd been doing all day. I think he's worried the funeral upset you. So? Has this tragic day finally broken through poor, _dear_ Near's shell, or were you just tidying?"

"I have been cleaning my room. Please thank Roger for his concern."

"Thank him yourself . Your room's almost done anyways. Happy? It looks like an asylum again." I looked around, a little surprised by the comparison. It was true, although I'd never thought about it that way. Mello moved close, confusing my eyes and my vision trembled quickly before my contact, already irritated from the cleaning chemicals, fell out. Mello actually leaped back in surprise.

"Your…your eye!" Sighing, I stood up.

"Yes, I lost my contact. Mello will have to help me to the bathroom." Too shocked to protest, Mello actually allowed me to grab his arm and he led me to the bathroom. I rinsed off my contact and replaced it.

"But…your eyes are black."

"No one's eyes are black, Mello. The sclera contacts that protect my eyes from light are black, but my eyes are purple."

"No one's eyes are purple, Near." He said, unconsciously repeating my words back to me.

"Obviously, mine are. It's the only pigment I have. The pink from my albinism blends with what I assume would have been my eye color. My mother's eyes were blue." I left Mello in the bathroom, in shock for the second time that day. Parents weren't a forbidden topic at Whammy's, but nobody ever talked about them. Settling on a foaming carpet cleaner, I finished my room and looked around. Saying it was like an asylum was an exaggeration, however, it was impersonal, with the exception of the small white box of puzzles and toys I kept. I carefully taped the picture I'd taken to the wall and resolved to take more.

The next week passed without incident and I returned with several new pictures of white for my walls. Never something that was supposed to be white, always something that had lost its color. One day, Matt walked in, observing my walls, before remarking,

"There's nothing alive in any of them" He walked back out without further explanation regarding his presence. I had been playing with two robots while I taught myself Amharic. Matt's presence wasn't any surprise. Mello often sent him to make sure I had not suddenly grown a desire to plot against him. Lifting the camera up, I took a picture of myself, and it joined the others on my walls. I could have waited, but the biweekly updating of the scores was the next day, and I wanted the picture of me to be perfectly white. The scores would undoubtedly lead to an enraged Mello and my own subsequent beating.

To my surprise, it snowed the next day and I wandered out, looking for something to add to my walls. It was not too long before I began to shiver in my thin pajamas and I was just about to return when a black figure ran towards me.

"Congratulations again, Near. First place." Mello spat out at me. I kept silent, knowing it was best not to respond at all. He leapt towards me, and knocked me to the ground, and I found myself suddenly thankful for the snow that softened my fall. Straddling me, Mello raised his hand and I waited for the blows that would mottle my skin with bruises, but he put two fingers into his mouth, sucking them. I wondered what this new form of punishment could be, and closed my eyes, but he opened my eyelids by force with one hand and plucked out my contact with his moistened fingers.

White.

Not the friendly white that soothed my life, but the burning, searing kind. It was painful, the amount of light that beamed down from the sun, refracted in the snow into an even more evil force that sliced at my eyes. I couldn't help it. I gasped,

"Please, don't Mello." It was the first protest he'd ever gotten. Carefully, he plucked out the other contact then stood up and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll be waiting with these in your room." For a while, I lay on the ground with my eyes screwed shut, rolling in pain. My eyes strained against the light, trying to escape back into my head. At some point in my rolling, I hit a tree with my side, hard, and I got some of my senses back. I judged the distance from the tree to the door and started walking back, my eyes still tightly shut. I walked hard into the door, falling over. From the ground, I extended my hands, using my fingers to gently feel my way up the door to the handle. I pulled myself back up and walked inside, where I judged it'd be safe to open my eyes. My eyesight is terrible without my contacts and although the twitching and flickering of them in protest to the light was worse, I was also somewhat dismayed by how blurry my vision was. When my contacts were returned, I would be able to accurately measure if the exposure to the sun had caused any permanent damage. I stumbled down the halls, very aware of all my control slipping away. I was shaking from the pain, my clothes were sticking to me, covered in twigs, dirt, sweat and snow, and I was so very very not white. Finally, I half-crawled my way back to my own hallway, where I first opened the wrong door (empty, thank goodness) and finally opened my own door. I had an irrational fear, for a moment, that I would return to find my room equally marred, covered in scratches, bruises and dirt, but it was as pristine as always. In the middle of my white, was a big black blur which I registered as Mello, before the edges of my room turned black too. All that was left was Mello, in the center of my vision, and then that was gone too.

Mello's POV

I saw the Near standing there and he looked utterly undone, like, scared as hell. I felt the kind of victory I didn't feel being the second smartest genius in school, or even beating up the first afterwards, 'cause, hell, I made _Near_ show some fucking emotion. Nobody can do that shit. Everything was right about it too, his pristine clothes were trashed, his smooth white skin was scratched and bruised and his eyes were miracles on their own. I knew it was the lenses that made them emotionless, but it kind of looked like they had turned purple and expressive just for me, to show me the pain I'd put him in. I smirked, so he could see exactly who was number one. His lips mouthed my name and then he fell down.

Not gonna lie, I had a small moment of complete panic. I seriously thought I'd killed the little albino bastard, but when a shudder went through him, I realized he was alive, just fucked up. So I approached him and walked up and rolled the midget over, and his head lolled back and his arm was limp, but he was alive as far as I could tell, just being a pussy about it. I realized dinner was only two hours away, and Roger had started checking up on people when they didn't show, so I tried to wake him up, by wetting a washcloth and kind of patting at his face with it.

It was humiliating. Me, Mello, kneeling on the ground with Near in my arms like doomed lovers at the end of a chick-flick. Finally, I just filled up his bathtub, stripped him and dumped him in. I figured his self-preservation instincts would kick in and he'd wake up before he drowned. But he just thrashed once, and then sank into the water, face up, looking almost peaceful underneath the water.

"_Shit."_ I hissed, and pulled him back out, getting my long black sleeves soaked in the process. I kind of wrapped him in a towel and picked him up and put him in his bed, under the sheets. I pulled on his pants, but it was such a pain, I really didn't feel the need to do his shirt. I mean, morticians do that, but A, I wasn't getting paid, and B, they give dead bodies special clothes with like, zippers and shit up the back. One hour till dinner. Ugh. Plan B, right? Mello always has a plan B. Actually, Mello usually doesn't even have a plan A, but a good, charismatic hero-type like me always comes out on top, and I'm more charismatic than most.

I got the washcloth and scrubbed all the remaining smudges off his face. I addressed the small scratches with a thorough cleansing and put Neosporin on them. Some ice wrapped in another washcloth took care of most of the bruises and the scratches didn't raise any more. It felt completely weird to treat his body so gently, but I couldn't really afford to get in trouble with Roger again. I recognized a bruise on his chest that there was no way I'd given him, so I poked it gently and watched the pale spot my fingers had created fade back into purple. Near made a tiny gasp, and I looked up at him, surprised all over again by his purple eyes, now open.

"What are you doing?" Honestly curious, I asked,

"Where did you get this?" Near seemed shocked by the sheer stupidity of my question, though no emotion entered his voice.

"Mello did this to me two weeks ago. I believe the rib is bruised." Okay, so I bruised a rib once, trying to parachute off the building with Matt (didn't factor in the fire escape) and it hurt to sit down, lie down, stand up, and breathe. There was no fucking way that tiny little Near was just walking around like normal with his rib bruised.

"Holy shit." Yeah, real intelligent, Mello. Near continued examining himself, and I just kind of stared because the emotion in his eyes looked so out of place on Near. Apprehension before he started his self-diagnosis, surprise at the state of the wounds, the moment of comprehension, and suspicion when he looked back up.

"Mello took care of me during the time I was unconscious." Statement, not a question, so I didn't say anything. We stared at each other warily, each waiting to see how the other would decide to set the tone when Roger settled it for us by knocking twice and opening the door. His expression at seeing us together was worth the mess.

"Uh…Mello." I gave a sarcastic smile and wave. "You two are late for dinner." Near surprised us both by speaking.

"Can we eat up here, please? I lost my contacts in the snow and Mello helped me up here, but I'm still recovering."

"How did you lose both lenses at the same time? You need to be more careful, Near, you'll lose even more of your eyesight if light gets in." Lose more of his eyesight? God, what if Near went blind…and it was my fault? Fuck. It was just supposed to make him lose, for once. I reevaluated the state Near was in when he walked in, the strange vulnerability, even the unfocused look of his eyes when he looked at me. I knew albinism sometimes went hand in hand with blindness. I looked at Near and realized, he'd just gotten all the way up here, blinded by light, and also just…blinded. Shit. For the first time, I fully faced the reality of what I'd done and looked at Near with a little bit of…pity. Fire entered Near's eyes, and it was a little daunting for both of us to see it.

"Roger, I am well aware of my condition and certainly I have done more research on the subject than most doctors. What happened today had an 82% chance of happening at least once this year, and Mello was there to help before anything happened. Please bring up dinner. You may go." Roger actually turned around and walked out, like a waiter taking Near's order.

"That was pretty badass…for a sheep." A hand rose up to twirl Near's hair, and it took a moment for me to realize it was my hand, so I tugged cruelly on his locks, as if to emphasize his albinism.

"Why did Mello help me when it was he who hurt me in the first place?" Flash of guilt at that one.

"You were scared. I didn't expect that." Near looked at me curiously.

"The obvious solution to my fear would be to not scare me in the first place, Mello. Regardless, your guilt is misplaced. I was not frightened, simply disoriented by the light."

"Fuck that. I saw your eyes, Near and you were scared." His violet eyes narrowed.

"It is a common misconception that one can read emotions from the eyes alone." I put a finger under his chin and lifted his face up close to mine.

"You're wondering what I'm doing. Now surprised. Now skeptical. Irritated. Frustrated. You're gonna-" Near pulled his chin away. "…pull away. Ta-da!" Eyes fixed carefully on the bedspread, Near looked up and asked,

"Can I please have my contacts back?"

"On the dresser." Near put them back in and crawled into bed again, where a small and secret part of me mourned the loss of violet.

"The chances of guessing correctly based on the situation is fairly high. I could recreate the same results. Mello feels as though his victory was spoiled by the realization of the magnitude of how he has hurt me. He feels slightly guilty and confusion over the guilt. Incidentally, the contacts have not fully restored my sight, so I will need to order stronger ones. Will Mello please bring me the magnifying glass from the top drawer? Then you may go." I rolled my eyes, but found myself getting up to help. Made him go blind. It sounded so…permanent. And cruel.

"I'm your concerned savior. I can't just skip off and leave you here or Roger'll know somethings up."

"Fine." Near pulled a laptop from under his bed and used his magnifying glass to scan the screen, but even with it, he had to squint. More guilt. Finally, I walked over and took the laptop from his lap, reading it carefully to him. I had already administered three sight tests to him and realized with some relief his sight was only a teeny, tiny bit worse, when Roger reappeared, set food down and left. By the time I'd inhaled half my food, I realized Near had only taken a small bite, and only took that when I had left quickly to grab us drinks.

"Why arentcha eating?"

"I don't eat in front of people." _Oh, you don't do you?_ I thought. I guess I got what people call "The Mello Gleam" in my eyes (as in, "Run, I see the Mello Gleam!") and he shrank back ever so slightly. I pinned him against the headboard and scooped up a spoonful of the mole, mostly sauce, but it's the winning that counts, and stuffed it into his mouth. Reluctantly, he swallowed it.

"There. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I got up to leave, feeling my point had been made. Mello always wins. Even when he doesn't, victory is sure to follow.

"Mello."

"What."

"I don't have anything alive on my walls."

"What?" Near pointed at his pictures.

"Nothing alive."

"Idiot, there's a picture of you." Near pulled out one contact, even though the light made him wince again.

"Living things have emotions, drive, and eyes that show them. I am alive." He replaced it. "I am not."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Mello is always alive." I turned around and leaned forward, fake pouting and batting my lashes.

"Then take a picture."

"No I don't-" I stood straight back up. I knew he wouldn't, I was just playing with his mind, like I knew only I could, and I needed to regain some of whatever I had lost by being gentle with him.

"Then don't waste my time." I walked out.


	2. Accidents Happen

Mello's POV

For a house of geniuses, there sure aren't a lot of people here who can see the obvious when it's right in front of them. I used to talk to some of the other students about God, but the idiots would laugh at me, and talk about "blind faith" and evolution. Science adjusts its views based on new knowledge, but faith does the same. There is no difference between discovering a new way that life can be sustained and God sending down Jesus Christ to tell us about His ways. You would think, for the orphans at Whammy's that faith would be their saving grace. This is not a world for people like us; we will never be 9:00 to 5:00 workers; people like us are crushed or rise to the top, and somehow, we all found our way here, to a home that can nurture our abilities and make us successful. What are the odds of that? How can there not be a God?

Every day I found myself there, in the Chapel, sharing with God my day, because I knew only He can help me make sense of it. God is pretty much the only person I talk to who doesn't make me angry. I knelt and, with the quiet prayers under my breath and the working of the beads in my hands, I felt the familiar peace spreading from my chest out to the rest of my body. Shuffling footsteps came from behind me and I wondered if it was Sunday, the day that some of the adults halfheartedly joined me here. I turned to see who was in the Chapel on a Tuesday, and saw Near.

"I changed my mind." I had no idea what he was talking about.

"What?"

"Three days ago, Mello asked if I wished to take a picture of him. I was caught by surprise and declined. But I changed my mind." Was he serious? I hadn't been offering because I thought he would take a picture, I was teasing. Yet there was the camera, dangling from his thin hands.

"Ummmm, okay." Least I could do. I hadn't teased Near or gone out of my way to be rude to him in the three days following the snow day. I actually felt guilty about the little twit. The kind of anger I have, its like a fire. It craves fuel, and he never reacts. So I hit him harder. Its hard to know that you've seriously injured someone when they make no noise, produce no tears or cries. It doesn't excuse what I've done. But I honestly didn't know it was that bad. And what I'd done with his contacts…I couldn't even think about that yet. Blinding somebody isn't something people with tempers do, or even bullies. Blinding someone- especially someone so small, who never fights back- is what bad people do, as juvenile as that concept may be. And before I could help it, I asked,

"Near? Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Bad and good are relative. There is no set group of rules to define who is either."

"I hurt you."

"Yes. So would a severe fall down the stairs. So would a hurricane. That does not make gravity or weather inherently bad."

"I hurt you on purpose."

"I do not believe Mello is always as in control of himself as even he thinks he is." I stood up to hit him, but a statue of the Virgin Mary looked at me sternly, so I did not. Near hadn't missed the movement, though. "See?"

"Near, you-" I took a deep breath and started working the rosary again with my fingers. Prayer calmed me, so I chose to pray for the strength to get out an apology I knew I needed to.

"I went too far. I've always meant to hurt you, not damage you." Ugh, that didn't sound like much of an apology. Near tilted his head. He was really going to make this hard, wasn't he? "I uh, that is, I . I _know_ I can beat you! So it frustrates me when I don't and I study really hard, and I pray, and you don't do shit, you just play with your toys like a damn three year old! Its not fair. It takes up my mind, the unfairness of it all, and you don't even notice me, even though I spend all my time thinking about you. Its like you're the goddamn sun, and I feel pathetic as fuck just revolving around you!" There, that was kind of an apology, or at least an explanation. I mentally sent upwards my penitence for cursing in a Chapel.

"Mello is being ridiculous." Little sheep, what does he know? "Even if you truly revolved around me, that does not take into account my own focus. L would be the sun, I the earth, and you the moon. Still, the premise is flawed. You are more like a sun than anyone else I know." Mary, mother of Christ, Near just talked without using third person. I looked around quickly for any other signs of the apocalypse.

"I'm…what?"

"Mello is wrong. I do study. I'll show you how, sometime, if you wish. My toys play the same role as your rosary does in prayer." I wondered if Near would ever make sense.

"I notice Mello. Everyone does. It is me who no one notices, except for Mello." He walked outside, and without thinking, I followed him. "Mello is more like the sun than me. Or even nature. Mello is more full of life than anyone else I know." He stopped and turned around. "Mello is the eye of a storm. I do not know how he does not see his own force. You burn with life. It is worth it, sometimes, to get hurt." There he goes again, discarding the third person.

CLICK!

Near walked away with the picture of me clenched tightly in his hands. I stood there, dazed by the flash and his words. I never even got the chance to say what I needed to say. Shit. I'd go in the morning.

Near's POV

Carefully, I attached the picture of Mello to my wall. All my other pictures blended in to the white of my existence; the eye skimmed over them all, even the picture of me, but this one splash of color stood out, irrefutably alive. I decided I was pleased, and retrieved a box filled with cards.

One, two, three. I made a triangle of three cards.

One, two, three. I set up a second triangle next to the first.

One, two, three. A third triangle on top of the first two.

I allowed the patterns to soothe my mind from the stress of leaving my safety and asking for a picture from Mello.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

"You burn with life." It was true, and I was being blinded by him. As if to illustrate my point, the cards swam out of focus and my eyes flickered about uncontrollably for almost a full minute. I did my best to keep my hands still so I would not knock over my cards. Eventually, a student came up to check on me and, seeing I was working on a new creation, brought dinner up. I ignored it, and eventually, surrounded by a cage of triangles, I took out my lenses, and fell asleep.

I dreamed I was in a deck of cards, being pulled out, one by one, to build the universe. The cards were tarot, not the traditional playing cards I used. I had a sense of the being who was arranging the universe into existence, and he was bright, so bright he could see into the tiniest corners of our selves. When he pulled out a card, they would see themselves as he saw them, and I felt the peace radiating from each of my companions as they found their place. Suddenly, I was selected. He turned me over to see what kind of card I was, and where I would fit, but I was blank on every side.

"There's nothing there…" He said, and I recognized the voice. I raised my hands in supplication, not a card anymore, but a little boy in pajamas.

"Please, no."

"There is no place for Nothing." I knew it, I had always known it, but to hear it said by this brilliant creature of light filled me with despair.

"Mello, please…"

"Near, wake up!"

I opened my eyes carefully, and then tried to open them again, just in case I was still asleep and dreaming that I had woken. I looked through the dome of cards I had built around myself and saw flashes of black and gold.

"Mello?"

"Yeah, its me. Are you okay? I heard you, um, having a nightmare."

"I am fine." The gold bowed and folded itself into the black, and when Mello's voice came again, it was pained.

"Did I hurt you?" I was confused.

"Mello has yet to touch me." I selected a card from the bottom of the dome, and when I pulled it out, the entire structure collapsed around me. Truly, peeking at pieces of Mello through the triangles did not do him justice. I stared for a moment, then registered the look of guilt on his face.

"You had a nightmare…and then you said my name. The nightmare was about me." I considered this. He had been in the dream, however, not in the sense he believed. He was not the perpetrator of fear, only the illuminating factor that brought my realization of my own lack of self.

"The nightmare was about me, Mello."

"I'm sorry!" Now I was truly confused. I had never heard Mello apologize to anyone for anything before, and suddenly, he was apologizing to me over the strangest things.

"Mello is not responsible for any actions he took in my subconscious."

"No, for everything. I don't want to be a bad person. Let me help you."

"Help me with what?" I kept my face carefully blank.

"Anything. Even if you just need me to read for you, like when we ordered your new contacts."

"Ah, Mello is referring to my vision problem. As he can see, I have it under control. The new contacts came in." I gestured to my eyes before realizing I had taken out my contacts to sleep. I reached to put them back in and Mello caught my hand. I stiffened at the contact.

"Near,"

"Yes?"

"How bad is your sight going to get?"

"Loss of sight varies from person to person in cases of low-vision albinism. The lack of pigment during the development of the eye causes an abnormal development of the retina and affects the formation of the nerve pathways from the eyes to the brain. I am unusual in that my iris has and does not have pigment in small patches, creating the unusual coloration. Doctors don't really know how that will affect my sight in the future. I have some theories."

"Like?"

"I may become totally blind. The chances of this happening are at approximately 29%. Based on my experience so far it seems likely that my vision will begin to go in and out before I find equilibrium at either blindness or sightedness. Episodes that support my theory have occurred in the past."

"Shit."

"Yes."

"So let me help you."

"Mello will eventually overcome his guilt and return to his previous behavior."

"Dammit, Near!"

"Already, he is struggling not to hit me."

"Fine then, be that way! Who do you think's gonna help you one day when you look up and can't see anything at all? Him?" Mello picked up my stuffed sheep and threw it. "Them?" He stormed farther into my room and kicked over a small group of robots. "These?" A handful of cards were snatched up then sent fluttering back down. I watched him stomp around my room, throwing toys and games. Finally, he stopped back in front of me and grabbed a hold of my shoulders. I waited for him to throw me, too, into the pile of my possessions, but his shoulders slumped and he leaned into me. "I'm not the only one with stupid pride to give up. My offer still stands." And he left.

Almost two months passed in relative normalcy. I kept to myself mostly, watched Mello when I could get away with it, built cities of dice and cards when I couldn't. Once every two weeks, I checked my updated scores and waited for a red-faced Mello to finally snap and hit me, but each time, he pushed past me with unnecessary force and retired to his room where the sounds of breaking furniture could be heard. I was pleased, if puzzled, by the sudden transference of his fury to his furniture, but I didn't pursue his motivation. I resolved myself to the new way of life, berating myself mentally for allowing the world to shift and affect me yet again. And then…

I was in the playroom when it happened. I was making a small castle of dice, complete with tiny armaments and towers. I was about to place the final piece when my vision quivered and vanished. White, all I could see was white. I turned in the direction Linda had been in, two hours ago. I hoped fervently that she was still there, and comforted myself in the fact that I couldn't remember her walking past me.

"Linda?" I asked, managing to keep the quaver from my voice.

"Yes, Near? What is it?" She sounded surprised I had addressed her.

"Would you please call Mello and ask him to come here?"

"Mello?" Fabric shifted.

"Yes."

"Alriiight." Footsteps, walking away. I waited. Only one set of footsteps returned. I hoped it was not Linda, returning alone. Suddenly, they stopped, in front of me. I pointed my face and eyes up in the space his head would be. A small snapping noise I couldn't identify, and then the smell of chocolate filled the room.

"Mello…"

Mello's POV

"Mello…" He said, and it was the voice of Near when his eyes were purple.

"What do you want?" He reached up towards my face and slowly stood up. His fingers stopped at my lips, and touched lightly over my face. His face was still pointed towards mine, but I noticed that his eyes were unfocused, and he was looking towards my voice, rather than straight into my eyes.

"I-…" He took a step towards me, and his foot stepped into an intricate castle of dice, tripping him forwards, towards me. I caught him and, to my surprise, he leaned into me.

"It's gone, Mello. I can't see."

Nears POV

I was aware of how much control I'd lost when Mello caught me, and I couldn't find the strength to pull away. Instead, I leaned into the familiar scent, and buried my face in his shirt so he couldn't see my face when I told him.

"It's gone, Mello. I can't see." I heard a gasp from above me, and Mello's arms vanished from around me. I had a moment to miss the warmth from around me before he shoved me suddenly, and I fell. Before I hit the ground, he caught me again, so that I was fully carried by him instead of just leaning.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Helping you. Now shut up." I obeyed. The rocking of Mello's movements underneath me told me that we were not going to my room, but I didn't worry much about it until I was dropped into an unfamiliar bed.

"Where-"

"My room. No one ever goes here because I usually stay over Matt's unless we're fighting. I have to go, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" I felt him adjusting the sheets and covers around me, an unfamiliar, but comforting sensation. So this was what being tucked in felt like. Quite enjoyable.

"Thank you, Mello." I had meant to wait for his return, but I fell asleep almost immediately. When the door opened and closed again, I had no idea how much time had passed.

"Dinnertime." I sat up, and Mello adjusted his pillows behind me so I could lean against the headboard. A tray was set in my lap, and I raised my hands uncertainly before he said,

"Right. Sorry." And a spoon pushed at my lips. Mello spoonfed me some sort of curry until the spoon gradually started scraping at the bowl more and more and it was gone. He pushed a glass into my hands, and I drank gratefully.

"I've never seen you eat anything before." I blushed.

"Yes. I do not like to eat in front of people." Too late now.

"Why?"

"Too human." We both pondered this for a moment. Now that I had said it out loud, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. Obviously I was a human being, but if I was to maintain my mask of never being happy, or sad, or surprised, or scared, how could I be expected to perform other human functions, like eating, or sleeping.

"Near, you are bizzare."

"The same could be said about Mello. Why is Mello helping me?"

"Because you asked me to. And I couldn't really say no after everything I've done."

"If Mello feels he needs to repay some sort of debt-"

"No, Near, I'm here because its right. I'll help you as much as you need, but don't ask me why again."

"Very well."

"Your eyes are kind of red, is that normal?"

"No, they should look the same." I put a fist up to my eyes and rubbed. "Oh, I accidentally slept while still wearing my contacts." Quickly, I pulled them out, then paused, at a loss for what I should do with them.

"Hang on, I'll get the contact thingy from your room." The weight and warmth on the bed vanished, and the tray was taken away before the smell of chocolate followed footsteps out of the room. Mello returned quickly and out of breath.

"Here." He gently guided my hands over, turning them to drop the contacts into their case.

"Tomorrow is Sunday, but we'll need most of the day to practice for Monday."

"Practice?"

"I assume you don't want people to know about your condition."

"That is correct."

"So we need to practice making you look like you can see." I was surprised by how completely Mello was taking helping me. "I told Roger you were whining about physical exertion and that you had been walking shakily, so he put me in charge of making sure you got around."

"I see. By making it appear to be his idea, Mello only had to agree. Which he did."

"Hell, no. I threw a fit about it, broke his lamp, and said I'd only do it if I got unlimited access to the library, and my curfew taken away completely."

"Why do you want that?" A book was pressed into my hand.

"Brush up on your braille. I'm moving you back to your room in a couple of hours."

"To…my room?"

"Don't worry, I'm going to spend the night with you. No curfew, remember? Honestly, you call yourself a genius?"

"Why is-…I mean, thank you." Feeling awkward, I changed the subject. "What does Mello keep in his mattress?"

"What?"

"I thought I felt something."

"What are you, a princess?"

"I do not understand the relevance of that question."

"Like the princess and the pea?"

"You are comparing me to a vegetable?"

"No! Jesus, Near, you don't know anything. I'll explain for your bedtime story, okay?"

"I do not need a bedtime story."

"The point isn't that you need them."

"What is the purpose, then?"

"Its six bars of chocolate and a gun." My mind caught up to where he was. Oh, in the mattress.

"What do you need a gun for?"

"Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Anything. I gotta go hang out with Matt so no one wonders where I am later."

"All right."

Two hours later, I was fully reacquainted with braille, and had practiced sign language enough that I felt adequate in it. Mello returned and lifted me bridal style again, carrying me quickly up to my room, where I was tucked in with three stuffed animals. Mello pulled up a chair next to my bed and told me a bizzare story in which the measure of royalty was their ability to feel delicate changes in environment, by the placement of a pea under their beds. Truly strange.

Mello's POV

Truly strange. I never thought I'd be in this position. Near was curled up under the covers with stuffed animals, looking innocent and young. He sighed, and white strands of his fluffy hair settled over his huge purple eyes. He wrinkled his nose. Laughing, I brushed the hair away from his face. I turned off the lights, even though it wouldn't make a difference to him. I bent over him, and tucked the covers around him one more time. Taking care of him appealed to whatever inner sense of protecting the small and weak I had. It felt like praying. It felt right. I remembered my own mother tucking me in, and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I knew he couldn't see me, and it gave me the courage to close the space between us. I leaned to brush my lips his cheek, but at the last moment, he turned, and asked,

"What are y-mmph!" and my lips landed on his mouth instead.


	3. Chocolate Pancakes

Near's POV

Mello jumped back as soon as our lips mashed together, and I lay there in shock. I knew I should probably say something, but I needed to retreat into myself, and consider the recent events. Between facing the possibility of my blindness, meeting the oddly kind new Mello, and receiving my first kiss as an accidental brush of the lips courtesy of my self-proclaimed nemesis…I broke it into manageable chunks to analyze. First, my sight. Would it return? Most likely. I had hypothesized before that my nerves would eventually shut down under the strain and take anywhere from a few hours to a few days to begin sending signals to my brain again. This brought up the question, of course, of when my sight would return. I decided I did not yet have enough data to make an educated guess and put it off, hoping Mello would cover for me. I wondered how far his new devotion would go. He had, in effect, volunteered himself to carry me on his back, and to make braille copies of the texts, but Mello's passion flowed quickly from subject to subject, and he was not reliable. He had surprised me though, by taking care of me, tucking me in…and kissing me. I considered what had happened leading up to the kiss and concluded that the kiss itself had been purposeful, but the placing was accidental.

"Mello?"

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Did Mello mean to kiss me?"

"Yeah, but not on the-"

"Lips. I see." I wished I could see if he had turned as red as he was in my imagination.

"Kiss you on the lips. It was- my mother used to tuck me in and kiss me, and I thought you…" There was an embarrassed silence, and I felt slightly discomfited by his awkwardness, but I needed to know one more thing.

"If Mello felt he owed me, he would have adequately repayed his debt by seeing to my physical health. Why is he offering emotional support as well?"

"God Near, I'm not here because I want to be! I'm gone the moment you're better, you creepy, undergrown SHEEP!" The door slammed, leaving me not in the dark, but in the fixed whiteness of my mind which was somehow more lonely. I didn't even notice when I fell asleep. I could only even tell that my eyes had closed, because my eyeballs weren't particularly dry, and I didn't feel the need for repeated ocular lubrication, although, for all I knew, my lack of blinking was incidental and I was simply staring, purple eyes peering blankly at the ceiling.

All I could see was white, white, white and then, in the distance, a spot of color. I ran towards in, fingers straining out to meet with something, anything, in this painful monotony of white. When I got close enough to see what it was, I recognized the picture instantly from my walls.

"Mello!" I gasped, and woke up.

"I'm here." Called a voice, and I wished I could perform some check to see if I was really as awake as I believed. Slim fingers on my back pet and soothed me. I wanted to pull away, to tell him I was fine, but after a moment, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks. For a terrifying second, I panicked, positive I would taste blood when I put a finger up into the moisture and laid it on my tongue, but it was only my own salty tears. "Its okay, Near." I leaned into the blonde, finding relief in the ability to just sink my weight into him, letting someone else support me.

"You came back…" and it was almost a question, but his arms stiffened around me.

"I'm not going to apologize." He warned, and I didn't know if he was referring to the kiss or him leaving me, but it was apology enough. I nodded. "I'm only here, 'cause it'd be pretty pointless not to have a curfew if I just stayed in my room at night." My face remained blank, but I let out a big shuddering sigh that betrayed my previous tears, and my breath was a little too hot for my calm demeanor. "You know, I always wondered if you dreamt in white. I mean, makes sense, you decorate your room and body with it, might as well do it subconsciously too." His voice turned thoughtful. "Little Near sitting in the snow…" His fingers brushed my wet cheeks. "I guess its not anything so pleasant." Not quite asking, but when no answer was forthcoming, he simply did. "Did you dream you were blind?"

"No. I dreamed I could see." I heard him puzzling over that.

"Oh." My fingers came up to play with my hair, but when he was leaned over protectively like that, our hair mixed, my cottony fluffy curls with his silky smooth locks. At the unfamiliar texture, I jerked my hand back, but he didn't pull back, and he said, in that same thoughtful voice,

"Considering the circumstances…" My blindness? Our shared room? The kiss? "…Its okay for you to touch my hair…if it calms you." His hand closed around mine, and I was almost surprised his skin didn't burn with the intensity of some inner energy he possessed, but it was cool, and gentle when it guided my hand back into his hair. I made the same twirling patterns I did on mine, and marveled at the different feeling of the thinner strands slipping more easily from his fingers. "That actually feels really relaxing."

"I like the patterns." I explained, although I doubted that clarified anything, or justified my actions, really. I yawned, suddenly aware of how late it still was, and my fingers gradually slowed in Mello's hair until I was only stroking with the softest motions and realized I had almost calmed myself back into sleep. Mello seemed to notice at the same time.

"Go to sleep, Near. I'll be right here." I thought he might stay in bed next to me, but he gently disentangled my fingers and pulled the chair in closer from next to my bed.

"Have you been sleeping there?" I asked, and I felt my eyes widen, though the white remained unbroken. He misunderstood and defensively said,

"Don't worry, I moved all your toys to the dresser, but I am _not_ sleeping on the floor." Knowing Mello, I had half expected him to make _me_ sleep on the floor, while he took the bed. The chair thing was touching, but somewhat illogical. There was plenty of space…

"You can share the bed." I scuffled as far to the left as I could, and nearly fell out. I could almost feel him hesitating, before he slipped under the covers next to me. I was almost asleep when his voice trailed into the whiteness.

"This is weird." I didn't understand.

"Mello sleeps in Matt's bed almost every night."

"That's different. We have camaraderie. It was kind of a natural transition between falling asleep watching him play videogames and starting to bring my pajamas over." I absorbed this. Yes, it was strange, and I had allowed myself to take it too naturally. Mello and Matt were friends. Shared closeness was normal. Mello and I were not. It would not do to forget this. Whatever anthropological need I had that was filled by being taken care of could not override my knowledge that this was Mello; the one who hurt me, the one who speeded up the process of my blindness, the one who tripped me in the halls. And the one who, the moment I could see again, would go back to doing so. I did my best not to burrow into his warmth, or take comfort from the sound of his breathing. "What's wrong?" Ah, yes, I had forgotten Mello could read so much from my exposed eyes.

"Nothing is wrong." I said, and snuggled into my pillow. I really was tired, and sleep claimed me again after a while. I couldn't remember my dream, only a vague feeling of loss and fear, followed by relief, in the form of comforting darkness that pressed in from all sides and banished the searing white. When I opened my eyes again, I was disappointed to still see no difference, but a soft feeling in my hand distracted me.

Silk…

Yanking my hand back, I said,

"I am sorry, I did not intend to-"

"Chill, Near. I put your hand there. You were thrashing around and twisting the sheets and it seemed to calm you before, so…" I could feel his shrug, and relaxed a little.

"What time is it?"

"Six on the dot." I was pleased my internal sense of time had not been displaced by my loss of sight. Mello yawned, and his breathing slowed down. I realized he must have fallen asleep again. Experimentally, I pictured my room, summoning up as exact an image of it as I could from the depths of my memory. I factored in the chair Mello had moved, and carefully got out of bed. I estimated the distance between my bed and dresser and walked to it. Feeling around for my contact case, I picked up the case and tried to walk as normally as possible to my private bathroom. I set the contacts on the counter and drew myself a bath, only banging my hand once before I found the handle. I had lived here for most of my life; I hoped I could navigate my way around by memory. I took my bath quickly, thanking whatever higher power had made shaving an unnecessary part of my morning routine. After drying off, I returned to my room and changed in the closet. By the time I emerged, Mello was stirring in my bed.

"Jesus, Near. It's only 8:00, why are you showered and dressed? Even God took today off." I heard a yawn, and the creak of my bedsprings as Mello jumped lightly off, then suddenly, his voice appeared inches from me, pulling my shirt off. I was startled, but registered his words.

"Your shirt is inside out, Near."

"Oh." Then, because it was Mello, and apparently he is under contract to do at least one rude thing per conversation, he pinched my cheek, hard, and teased,

"AWWWW, does ickle Nearie need help with his jamjams?" Laughing, he walked out of my room.

Mello's POV

So I walked out, trying hard not to wonder if I was getting too in touch with my maternal side. Walking into the kitchen, I started making my favorite breakfast, pancakes with chocolate chips. If I was gonna do any serious thinking, then I was gonna do it with chocolate in my stomach, dammit! I set two pancakes aside for Near, and started chewing my way through the rest of them. Okay, time to ask myself some hard questions. One, what was I doing? Helping Near, comforting Near, taking care of Near. No need to get alarmed yet, that answer may or may not be disturbing based on the next one: Why? There, I was stuck. Yes, I was doing it because I felt bad, and I knew I had crossed the line so many times I wasn't even realizing what I was doing until I left Near blinded and alone in the snow. All of that was perfectly true, but I was also doing it because it felt good.

Hurting Near, bad. Helping Near, good. Some rivals we were. I wondered if it was because he was blind, small and weak, and it gave me some satisfaction to see him brought to his knees, but I could see the motivation behind my own actions better than that, and they were all to do with bringing him back up to standing tall. Which was ridiculous. When Near wasn't terrified and blinded, he was a bastard. Just as much as me, he delighted in bringing things crashing down back into their base elements. I often suspected he built his towers of cards and dice for the sheer satisfaction of knowing exactly which piece to remove to send the entire structure toppling down. He would do it to people too. Near was extremely morally ambiguous, and viewed right and wrong as tools to manipulate people into the only 'right' he ever strived for; getting his way. He was more concerned with results than methods, and it was why he was alone. Even the most shy kid at Whammy's had a friend, yet no one even wanted to be the Number One's study buddy. Shit, even I had Matt, and believe me when I say I can be an asshole. But Near had a calm, cold way of making people feel like a dirty smudge on his perfect white world that sent the last girl who'd tried to be his friend- almost three years ago- off the rooftop and into the hospital, with a broken leg and an inferiority complex. But hey, at least Near did well on his experimental psychology essay.

Yet this Near was different; when he so openly, desperately needed me, it was hard to believe the calculating and manipulating Near hid behind his expressive purple eyes. I really had to stop thinking that way. Matt walked into the kitchen.

"Mello?" He asked in mock surprise. "Voluntarily awake on a Sunday?"

"Shut the fuck up." I growled, picking up my plate and dumping it into the sink.

"Where'd you sleep last night?" he asked suddenly, and I tried to hide my surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we had that argument, and I thought it was weird 'cause you were definitely looking for a fight, but you didn't seem mad when you walked in so I went to go apologize to you but your room was empty which means you argued with me on purpose so you could ditch me and sneak away!" Matt always said things in one breath, which made me wonder if he sped up social interaction so he could go back to his games. Almost made you forget he was every bit as smart as me and Near.

"Fine, I agreed to carry the albino around, since apparently he's too good to walk now, and in exchange, Roger took away my curfew! I snuck into town last night to buy some stuff. I'm planning something big"- shit, now I'd have to plan something big- "but I can't tell you yet. I have to sneak away during the day to get my sleep in, but it'll be worth it when you see what it is." Matt's eyes lit up and he looked excited to be included. I shoved down my guilt.

"Of course! Yeah, I noticed you'd been sleeping in your bed at some point, but you weren't there, so I didn't know what to think, hey cool, you made pancakes!" He reached for one, but I moved the plate. "These're mine, make your own!" Matt rolled his eyes, and I made my escape, locking my bedroom door so he couldn't check on me sleeping. Finally, I made it back to Near's room.

"Breakfast, princess." I tried to make my voice as insulting as possible, but as soon as I walked in, I set down the pancakes quickly and walked over to Near in concern. He was curled up on the floor in pain.

"Jesus, Near, what happened to you?"

Near's POV

I had only tried to put my contacts case back on the stand, but I miscalculated the distance and ended up falling, banging my ribs badly. Directly over the last unhealed part of the bruising on my ribs. Of course, the moment I was at my most vulnerable, curled around the pain, Mello walked back in, teasing,

"Breakfast, princess." And I registered the smell of pancakes before he was suddenly close, asking, "Jesus, what happened to you, Near?"

"I fell…" I replied, as evenly as possible, trying to sit up and regain some dignity, but my breath hitched, and he pushed me back down, lifting up my shirt to examine my ribs. "I am fine, I just fell down where I was already bruised." By Mello. Mello seemed to pick that part out of my mind and recognized the placing of the sensitive spot on my ribs.

"How did I do that?" his fingers brushed lightly over the bruise, and I tried not to hiss in pain. Mello felt me tense, though, and stroked apologetically underneath the sore spot. It felt strange, so I wiggled away from him. He paused, and then ignored my squirming to dig lightly at me lower, in the sensitive areas on the sides of my stomach. It definitely wasn't a pleasant feeling, and I felt a reaction bubbling in my stomach, until it burst out in an uncontrollable laugh. So strange, to be tickled! It was not comfortable, it was surely a feeling close to pain, and yet, the tension made me laugh, and the endorphins were a tingly nicety my body gave me to make up for the strangeness of it all. I laughed and laughed, until I was gasping for breath and tears were rolling down my cheeks, and when I thought I would surely die from asphyxiation, Mello stopped.

"I didn't know you were ticklish, Near." I wrinkled my nose at him while I regained my breath and responded,

"To be fair, neither did I." I could almost feel him thinking this over, and he asked unexpectedly,

"Don't you ever wish you had friends?"

"I have had friends in the past."

"No, you've played with people's minds like they are puzzles." I almost told him I played with puzzles as practice for people's minds, but it didn't word quite the way I wanted, so instead I said,

"They are." Which was almost the same thing. Mello commanded me to take out my contacts, and I did, wondering what he would try. Instead, he only asked again,

"Don't you ever wish you had friends?"

"No." I answered, and made my voice as cold as possible. I felt his cool breath wash over my face as he leaned in to study my eyes.

"You lied! There's something you're not telling me." He announced triumphantly. I closed my traitorous eyes and pulled my face away, though my skin tingled pleasantly from the contact.

"Being with Mello for the last few days has been what I imagined friendship would feel like." My hand scrambled up to my chest to try and identify which hollow in between my organs had hitched at this declaration, and I concluded it was another inexplicable emotions thing. Mello inhaled to say something, and I winced to hear what it was, because my confession had sounded so much more pathetic than I meant it to, but he let his breath back out in a sigh.

"I brought you pancakes." I never had more than cereal.

"Thank you."


	4. The Challenges of Eating Oatmeal

Near's POV

"Put your arms down. You can't look like you're expecting to run into something."

"I am expecting to run into something."

"Well, you can't look like it, so pick your arms up."

"Mello just requested that I put my arms down."

"Not pinned to your side."

"…how do I look now?"

"It was better when you were doing the Frankenstein walk."

I practiced walking with confidence as if I wasn't afraid of walking into a wall. When I was too exhausted to continue, I practiced sign language with Mello until we were both confidant he could read me our papers by pushing a hand into mine under the desk. Mello assured me that I looked, "No more odd than usual," and I accepted what, for him, was praise. He only left four times, twice for our meals and twice to spend time with Matt who was apparently getting suspicious. I wondered how long I could go before someone figured me out, and my increasing skill in stepping exactly in Mello's steps with only a hand on his elbow encouraged me. I went to bed tired but pleased, and Mello hovered awkwardly by.

"Tell me another story." I ordered, secretly delighting in his hesitancy, and to my surprise, he did. The story was about a little girl with a red cloak who encountered trouble in the woods after disobeying her mother. The story was not particularly deep and the lesson of the story was delivered in an obvious cause/effect scenario, but Mello had a ridiculous falsetto for the girl and a deep rumbly growl for the wolf that kind of sounded like angry Mello and I was entertained. When I heard him click off the lights, I teased, "What, no good night kiss?" expecting to be yelled at, or even hit, but certainly to get some hint that it was still Mello lying beside me in the dark, but to my surprise, he brushed his lips against my cheek before slipping into bed next to me.

"Sweet dreams, Near."

The following morning was not nearly as successful as the last, mostly because I was in a hurry, and unable to take the proper time in getting ready. I took a shower instead of a bath and got soap into my eyes, mouth, and nose, in addition to banging my toes against the edge of the tub multiple times. Mello had left to his room to get ready, so I was then stuck with the awkward position of waiting for him by my door, unable to occupy myself with my usual constructs without the use of my eyes. Finally, he arrived, and carried me on his back down to the cafeteria. When we walked in, the room went silent. Mello muttered to me quickly,

"Sorry, I'll have to be a bit rough." And dumped me off of his back, snorting at my undignified attempt to regain my balance before the hand that was hidden from everybody's sight settled at the small of my back and guided me to a seat. I noticed with some relief that I was sitting between Mello and a wall; I couldn't lean against Mello, but the wall was equally safe and I rested against it, enjoying the coolness on my face. Without the use of my eyes, I was noticing, texture and temperature became very important. Matt and Mello went on about nothing until Matt said suddenly,

"Hey, why do you keep looking at the albino?"

"He's not eating…" Even I could discern the worry in Mello's voice, but even to placate him, I had no desire to dump oatmeal into my lap in front of the entire school. Matt, no doubt, shot him a look, and Mello quickly changed his tone. "Maybe since he looks so much like a girl, he's decided to eat like one, too." I attempted to take the abuse silently, as always, but it still seemed a weak cover for his concern, so I sent a scathing look in his direction and replied dispassionately,

"Mello is quite daring to say such a thing considering he looks as though he is paid for his services every time he goes out at night." I could hear the soft pop of Matt's mouth falling open at one of my rare, but cutting, remarks. Mello's voice came back free of any concern for me, apart from perhaps which part of me he would damage first.

"I wear the same damn uniform we all do; you're the freak who gets off acting like a five year old that's been dipped in bleach." In satisfaction at having successfully manipulated the mood, I dared to locate my spoon and bring it to my lips, fortunately not spilling any.

"What about the package you received recently? What did the box say? La Veiega?" I brought a finger up to twist a piece of my hair. So early in the day, and already my straight hair was starting to turn curly at the ends from my ministrations. "I believe they deal exclusively in leather pants…"I had hoped to save this discovery for a time when I could observe Mello's reaction, but it had served its purpose well; Matt was thoroughly diverted, and Mello did not have to fake his usual dislike of me. The bell rang, saving Mello from further response, and although I was yanked unnecessarily from my seat, Mello guided me onto his back gently enough, showing me he knew the reason behind my verbal attack, even if he did not enjoy the direction it came from.

"Please find your groups and begin the next worksheets in your courses."

At Whammy's, school is divided into levels, and the levels work in groups or individuals work in silence. Because of the unique nature of the students here, course work is modified to the individual, so we each have a separate course, though lessons may overlap, particularly among the levels. Mello and Matt were the only two whose coursework ever overlapped with my own. Usually, I cursed the necessity of our pairing. That day, I sent a thank you up to Mello's god. Which I quickly rescinded when Matt slid a paper towards me and asked,

"What do you think of that question?" I touched my fingers to the paper, making sure I was facing the right place when I pretended to look it over. Finally, I could not delay any longer, and I opened my mouth.

"I-"

"Why are you asking him? The stupid sheep probably doesn't even know the answer. Let me try!"

"If Mello wishes, he may try." I pushed the paper over to him and sighed as he explained the problem to Matt, while signing the problem to me under the table. At the end, I was able to give brief input, and dictated the answer to Matt, who wrote it down. If my sense of time was correct, I judged I only had about…seven hours to go. Marvelous. When the bell rang, signaling our first fifteen minute break before we switched subjects, Mello picked me up. Suddenly, a boy's voice hissed,

"Look, they're not even pretending that second is good for anything but being first's bitch anymore." I believed I recognized the voice to belong to Jas, a young man who was as large for his age as I was small for mine, and prone to goading students, although this was an extremely bad day for him to choose Mello. He was allowed into the institution based on his talent for taking apart and reassembling anything mechanical. His genius was unfortunately selective, however, and he seemed unable to do much else. Matt and I waited for the inevitable explosion. Mello did not disappoint. I was dumped off his back unceremoniously, and my blank vision told me nothing, but I could certainly hear the unmistakable sounds of fists striking flesh, and I felt a terrifying splatter of sweat or blood, I did not know. More thuds, and I worried for Mello, but when gasps and sobs pronounced Jas the loser, my worry switched into concern that Mello was going too far. The sounds of the gathering crowd betrayed the severity of the attack. Now Jas was just whimpering, but the hitting sounds continued.

"Uh, Mello?" Matt asked from beside me.

"Hngh! Hngh! Hngh!" Mello began to make little sounds of effort from continuing to beat his now silent opponent.

"Mello!" This time it was a man's voice, probably Roger's, and I heard the resulting struggle as they pulled him off of Jas. "My office. Now." I considered things I could possibly say to keep Mello with me, mostly so I could have an escort to my room, but a small part of me wanted to save him. I wished I was more impulsive, but I could never simply jump to a solution without considering and weighing every other possible solution first. Thankfully, Mello had regained enough of his logic to think for me.

"Matt, carry Near to his room." Our lessons would be stopped without Mello anyways, so I allowed myself to be gathered by unfamiliar arms and lifted up.

Matt's POV

I picked Near up and he looked almost scared, although the look passed so quickly I wasn't positive it had ever really been there. He clung carefully to my back, and he was so small, his clinging so childish, it was hard to believe the sheer intellect behind his fluffy white head. I walked him up to his room which I'd seen many times before, but the context was weird. Usually, it felt like I was infiltrating enemy headquarters; I came adrenaline high and following Mello's orders to ruin or destroy. This was…like being a guest. Disconcerted, I left Near on his bed, and he scuffled backwards into his half-crouch, almost falling off the bed. My hands twitched for a videogame as I stared at him and he stared just past me. Did Mello want me to do anything else? I kind of grunted and left the room. Something was going on, and it irritated me that I couldn't figure it out. I wasn't third place for nothing, despite rarely trying. I would probably be first if I ever did try, but I kind of wanted to travel the world anonymously, only doing enough to afford my games and smokes. So I don't want to dedicate my life to saving the world. So sue me. I pulled my GameBoy out of my pocket and fiddled with it, allowing the familiar music and moves to soothe my mind as I left walking away to my muscle memory and peripheral vision. I'd end up at my room eventually. This was just another practice case. Clues….

Mello hadn't slept in his bed, again. Despite the claims he'd made, I'd already checked the security cameras, and Mello hadn't left Whammy's. So…what was he doing at night? And there was the time with the pancakes, where he'd definitely guarded his plate from me…and left his plate in the sink. Hmmm…I killed a level boss and smiled. I'd figure it out. When I got back to my room, Mello was there. He was fuming, so I just waited for him to talk. Finally, he acknowledged my presence with a curt nod and I handed over an emergency chocolate bar soundlessly to keep the silence and peace.

"I put Near back in his room." I reported when he finished.

"Who cares?" He asked, and leaned against my back. Mello was the closest person I had. Where I only wanted to live, and maybe have some fun on the way, Mello was driven by a burning desire to succeed, and it made life flow through his veins and into anyone he looked at. It drew me in, and for some reason, he accepted my presence, surprising everyone. He really could have had anyone, the way he incensed people into intense hatred or love; it was impossible to ignore him. I was friendly enough, but antisocial. When he first talked to me, I put my head down and played my game. And then, where everyone else had simply left me to my own devices, I felt a warmth as he sat down behind me, back to back, and leaned into me. Just like he was doing now. Then, just as now, it only took a minute before I leaned back. And here we all are.

"I got most of my freedoms revoked again. I can only go to classes, the library and Near's room, to pick him up." I nodded.

"Sucks."

"Yeah. So I can't spend the night here again." I nodded again. This worked for my plan. He grabbed another controller and we played for almost three hours before he went to bed and I smiled at the overnight bag he had to pack to spend the night in his own room. All his clothes and toiletries were here. When had that started? Mello left, and as quickly as I could without being detected, I followed. To my surprise, he did go to his room, but he quickly came back out, having changed into his pajamas. And then he snuck off the the last place I expected. Near's room.

I waited for him to fulfill whatever task he had gone for, or to play some prank, but after ten minutes, I put my ear to the door. Near was talking.

"…not understand. If the purpose of the fairy godmother was to protect her, why would she wait until a prince showed up? It suggests that she does not possess the power necessary to save her on her own, and needed to rely on an outside savior towards which she could only nudge Cinderella. The prince's function was clearly only to save Cinderella, as the marriage was unlikely to last considering the mental state she would be in after the trauma and abuse."

"It's a romance story, Near. That's how it goes. The story ends at happily ever after, there's no divorce or lasting trauma."

"I see. However, that alone is based on the pretense that-"

"Near, don't ruin the story. So anyways, when she showed up at the ball, everyone stopped and stared at her, even the prince." I listened with shock to Mello, _**Mello**_, patiently telling Cinderella to Near, like a five year old's bedtime story.

"Good night, Near."

"Good night, Mello." Quickly, I ran down a few feet and hid in the next doorway so that when Mello reemerged he wouldn't see me. I played Mario Bros on silent for almost a full half hour before I snuck back over to the door and opened it a crack. My mouth dropped open in shock.

I saw Mello and Near sleeping together with one of Nears hands tangled in Mello's hair and Mello's arm slung protectively over Near. I gasped softly, but not softly enough. Mello's eyes snapped open and he sat up straight. His movement woke up Near who felt the air next to him before feeling that Mello was sitting up and sat up also, shadow covering his face.

"Mello, what is it?" Mello stared me down, judging my reaction, and then turned and rubbed Near's back, soothingly.

"It's only Matt. Could you give us a minute to talk? You could go wash your face to wake up some more." Near walked to his bathroom slowly, still not looking at me. Mello appeared to be waiting for me to say something, but this was why I needed him; this is when, were I arguing with anyone else, Mello would usually answer for me and fix the tension with something wildly inappropriate and crude.

"Well?" He finally asked. Well? Well?

"You…and Near?" I managed to choke out. To my relief, Mello looked genuinely grossed-out.

"Of course not, Matty, Jesus Christ! That's why I didn't tell you, 'cause I knew you'd assume something stupid like that." My throat opened up a little more.

"Then why…?" Mello snorted.

"I'm just…providing emotional support." I snorted back.

"Near doesn't have emotions." I would have felt guilty saying that about anyone else as they reappeared at the door, but I hadn't meant it to be rude. It was a statement I honestly believed.

"Mello is helping me develop interpersonal skills." There were so many things wrong with that statement, I honestly didn't know where to begin, although I became aware that I was gaping at the two of them. First, yeah, Near needed some serious social help, but not from Mello, who couldn't walk through any given crowd of people without starting a fight. Second, the thought of an emotionally available Near was just…wrong. And finally, even if I were to just accept all of that, Mello was teaching him how to be an emotional person by…sleeping with him?

"No."

"Matty?"

"I'm sorry, Mel, but I can't even pretend to not see through a cover story that thin. What's really going on?" To my surprise, it was again Near who volunteered an explanation.

"After one of our lessons, I suffered a panic attack. The social interaction overwhelmed me. Mello was concerned and stayed the night, and it helped calm me. His hair, I mean. Touching it calmed me." He gestured up to his other hand, still twirling his white locks, then deliberately reached out and twirled some of Mello's hair. This added some more clarification, but I still wasn't sure if I bought it.

"And Mello just…agreed?" That was the strangest part; the idea of Mello doing something like this just to be nice. The confusion in Near's face was very genuine, as if he agreed with my question and he actually bit his lip.

"I do not know why Mello chooses to comfort me. I believe he feels responsible for my panic attack and wishes to make it up to me." Mello both agreed and disagreed.

"It wouldn't be the same to beat him after I broke him. Near, you'll be at your very highest when I defeat you!" There was Mello logic for you. It still sounded weird as hell, but knowing what I knew about the two of them, it sounded slightly plausible. I nodded slowly. I wanted to open my mouth to ask if I could stay too, with Mello, but it caught in my throat. This is why I had my videogames. Because friends didn't last, or worse, they found new friends to leave you for. My mind was split, undecided. On the one hand, I could wait this out until Mello got over Near like he did all his other hobbies and came back. But, on the other hand, I didn't feel it would be that simple. There was a whole other level to the mystery that I still hadn't solved. I didn't believe they were….having sex? Gross. Fucking? GROSS. Making lo- brain bleach, but it had something to do with the caring way Mello brought a glass of water to Near's lips and pushed him gently back into bed. And as I slunk back to my room, feeling more alone than before I had ever met Mello, I realized just how out of my depth this mystery was.

Because I was smart, but solving a case wasn't supposed to make you curl up around a pillow and cry.

Shit.


	5. To Trip and Fall

_**A/N: I haven't done any author's notes so far, but basically, I don't own Death Note or make money from this. I've been kind of neglecting my Light and L fic for this one, but I'll update that one soon. So…enjoy the chapter? :D**_

In the infirmary, buried underneath a mound of bandages and casts, someone fumed. Jas gritted his teeth at the nerve of Mello, Mello, that skinny little boy with the girly haircut who thought he could win every fight with only arrogance and the belief that he could never ever lose. But everyone had to lose sometime. Jas smiled. He'd just have to change the odds.

Near's POV

I sat miserably out on a blanket laid out on the grass, waiting for Mello to come back. I'd been perfectly happy sitting in my room, reciting equations in my head, but Mello just _had_ to put me out here for "sunlight" like I was a plant. Next he'd be watering me. I heard a few voices in the distance, commenting on my uncharacteristic voyage into the sun. Where was Mello? My worry blossomed into full panic when someone grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, dragging me off. I tried to think of a way to identify my attacker without betraying my inability to see, but the panic was washing over me in waves, smothering my thought process. We passed into a cooler space, and I wondered where we were. The voices of all the other students had faded away with the distance. It occurred to me then that I should have struggled before. A hand touched my face and I stiffened. Multiple attackers, then.

"I'm sorry, Near, this really isn't personal." The hand gently stroked my face and then slapped me. I gasped, shocked from the sudden change in contact. "You see…" he slapped my other cheek, hard. "There's a lot of people with grudges against Mello, but he's a crazy motherfucker, and we think he has a gun." That was a logical deduction, considering Mello did have a gun. "So instead of getting him directly, we need to make him go away. You're good at puzzles, Number One." I nodded, waiting. "If you were running an institution, and you put a bully in charge of a poor, socially awkward little boy, then that boy turned up hurt…" I was good at puzzles. I understood before he even punctuated his words with a punch to my stomach that knocked all the breath out of me. "Hurt really badly." The next punch left me fearing for my organs. "And everyone you asked could testify that yes, the two did have a rivalry…" I was punched solidly across the face, and against my own will, I whimpered. Being hit in the face was a sacred line that was never crossed. I'd been hit in other places, or even slapped in the face, but never hard. It was most likely because no one wanted to leave a noticeable mark, but I had truly begun to believe that even when I did not know where the next blow would fall, I would know where it wouldn't fall. In an uncharacteristic show of vanity, a flicker of concern for my appearance passed through my mind as I felt myself begin to swell.

He punched me again in the ribs, leaving a pain that was quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of my wrist bending and giving when whoever was holding me let go, allowing him to shove me into the wall. Rough brick scraped against the back of my head, and I felt some relief deducing that we were in an alley, with the possibility of someone walking by. I was proven correct when a quick flicker of vision shot into my mind. I almost gasped again as my brain readjusted to the signals being sent from my eyes. Just as quickly, it was gone, but I had seen enough to identify Jas's most constant companion, and Havi, the fourth place student. Just as quickly, it was gone, and I was left to stare again at the endless white, the color of the pain in my wrist, my ribs, my face.

"M-m-…" I managed to get out, but bit back the words. I would not call out for Mello. I had no one else to call to. I would endure this in silence. He hit me harder in the side, exactly over the old bruise on my ribs, and I would have laughed at the irony of finding a new attacker as soon as the old one left me be, but the pain that bloomed over my side, sending me into waves of agony took any humor from me. I called out in my head, and then realized it had slipped out of my lips, in a soft plea. "Mello." My vision returned, allowing me to see the surprise in Havi's eyes as he heard what I'd said. Then he smiled in apparent understanding.

"You think he'll save you to get out of trouble? He probably wishes he could do this himself." My vision swayed, in and out. I saw a fist coming towards me. White. Pain. A view of the brick. I realized there were at least two more people in addition to the two I'd recognized, and turned my head to identify them. White. And then, when my vision returned, I saw a figure at the end of the alley, and decided I'd never seen anyone so beautiful as Mello, standing calm and confidant in the face of anything. But something was wrong. Mello's confidence melted as he realized how many attackers I had. He looked directly at me, and took a step back, being so meticulously careful not to leave a sound that I realized exactly what was going through his head. He thought I couldn't see him. So if he left now, before any of them turned…there would be no witnesses. Mello believed that any decision he made at that point would be between him and his God. I watched him take another step back. And another. And as Ben began to turn towards him, he ran, escaping their eyes before he was caught. I watched his hand scrape against the corner of the brick, and then he was gone.

They hit me again, and again, and I went limp, realizing there was nothing I could do but wait for the pain to stop. My eyesight went and came, and finally, I was lying alone on the floor. The white melted into sight again, and as I diagnosed myself physically, I noted with weary relief that my sight stayed. I stumbled back up to my room, reminded painfully of the time after Mello had removed my contacts. Finally, I collapsed on my bed, unable to do anything else for myself. It was ridiculous to feel betrayed. Ridiculous. Mello owed me nothing. I tried not to fixate on the most insignificant of my injuries, but I still found myself repeating the mantra. Mello owed me nothing. Mello owed me nothing. And without a debt to repay, why should I have expected any more?

Mello

Afterwards, I snuck up to Near's room with the first aid kit, a basin of warm water and some washcloths. I found him sprawled on his stomach on the bed, clearly trying to avoid letting the cloth of his sheets brush against the worst of his wounds. He scrambled away as soon as I opened the door, pressing his body against the wall in terror.

"Its only me." I reassured him, and coaxed him back into the bed, where I started to wash him and treat his wounds. Black eyes glittered above me.

"Why are you here?" He asked, and there was sincerity, as if he honestly wanted to know. I thought carefully, and found an answer that was honest enough.

"You're hurt. I'm here to help you." Was that a flinch, or my imagination? His arms moved as if to push me away, but instead exposed another cut for me to bandage.

"To help…" He processed my answer as I worked. "If Mello did not exist, I would lie here alone, until I felt well enough to treat myself. " Obviously. "Of course, if Mello did not exist, I would not have sustained any of these injuries in the first place." He was referring to the motivation behind the attack, of course, he couldn't have seen me. Still, I froze, a band-aid hovering over his finger.

"What do you mean?" He plucked the band-aid from my hands, holding it carefully by the edges and wrapped it around the scrape on my wrist. The scrape I had gotten running away. When he faced me directly, and I could no longer stand to stay because he looked at me as if…as if…"You can see…" I breathed, and Near looked at me levelly.

"So it would appear."

"Fuck. Fuck." No heat at my eyes, yet, but my chest felt empty and heavy, heaving like I wanted to cry. "Fuck. I'm-"

"Sorry?" He smiled, and it was terrifying on that face, because that was not the shy smile of my purple-eyed Near, it was a sadistic smear on the manipulative bastard Near's face. I wondered what psychological torture I would be exposed to. "Mello is sorry, yet I remain injured. Amazing how the apology had no effect on my wounds." I looked for the right words, but he continued, "There is no need for Mello to feel responsible." Despite his forgiving words, his voice grew harder, not softer. "Mello made no commitment to me." Except for telling him it'd be alright when he woke up from nightmares. Except for telling him I was there, as if I'd always be. Except for brushing my lips against his cheek every night before turning up his covers to protect him from the cold. "No promises were broken." Then why did I feel like betraying scum? His pale fingers touched just under my chin and applied slight pressure, pulling my face up so my eyes could meet his. They were the wrong color. Yes, I could ignore the hurtful words from the eyes that did not belong to Near. They were not the eyes that I had made unspoken promises to, nor were they the eyes I had betrayed. "No apology is needed." No, it wasn't necessary. Because to apologize would be to admit that I had done something wrong.

I opened my mouth to apologize anyways, for being there and not saving him. To explain that I, Mello, had been well and truly scared, afraid to fight for him, because even I could not stand against six people, and I would rather have him take blows for me than to admit that I was human, and it wasn't enough. I was afraid of what would happen when people weren't afraid of me anymore, when they realized I could bleed. I opened my mouth to tell him I was afraid, and to admit my weakness, but those eyes put me off again. I couldn't admit defeat to those eyes.

"I'm….going to have to roll you over to do your back." He rolled over. I bandaged. And when I was done, I gathered up the things I'd brought with me and returned to my room where for the first time in a long time, I slept alone.

Near's POV

I woke up from a nightmare, gasping and reaching for Mello. My fingers only met cool sheets and I instinctively searched with my hands before my eyes opened and everything came back. With my eyes opened I could see that I was as alone as I had ever been in my room, and I could remember that of course, there was no reason for Mello to stay now that I could see. If I had deluded myself into believing he'd stay for anything besides some misguided sense of guilt, I could do so no longer. I did not believe Mello had done wrong in any way, although he seemed to believe he had. It would have been the duty of a friend to step in and save me, but we were not friends. And that was fine. Mello had Matt, and I…well, I had been alone before and was not so sentimental as to believe I could not do so again.

Lying back down, I allowed myself the luxury of inhaling Mello's scent from the pillow next to me. The comforting smell would fade with time, but hopefully, so would my attachment.

The next morning found me surveying my room with a finger twining my hair into disarray. I felt the familiar cotton feel of my hair and longed for silk. There was chocolate in my bedside drawer. That would have to go. A black vest had found its way into my closet. A plate that had once held pancakes was carelessly dumped to the side. Mello had somehow managed to imprint himself into every corner of my room during his brief stay. I remembered when he and Matt had left long smears of black marker all over the flawless white of my room and wondered if my mind would look like that now, blemished with long, black splashes of Mello. His belongings were left in a neat pile outside of his door, his dishes left in the sink, his blonde hairs vacuumed up along with any dead skin cells he may have left behind. I took the picture of him off the wall and left to add it to the pile outside his door and returned to my room, but as soon as I looked at the again unbroken white of my life, I remembered my blindness and panicked, running back down to retrieve the picture and returned it to its rightful place on my wall.

Then I began the process of relieving myself of any future reliance on anyone. I left small tactile markers around my room so I could always be sure of my position relative to the furniture. I adjusted all the doors so I could clearly hear if anyone entered or exited. I ordered copies of my textbooks in braille.

I wouldn't need anyone ever again.

I wouldn't let myself.


	6. Mello Plays With Fire

_**A/N: As an apology for the last chapter, which was extremely short, here's an extra long chapter, with a promise of another one tomorrow for your reading enjoyment. Also, feel free to PM me at any time, to discuss the story or just to talk. These hours of story writing get looong. :D**_

I do not own Death Note, or it would look more like my fanfics. I also do not make money from my writings, although it'd be awesome if I did.

Please review, I believe cookies are the traditional offering, yes?

Also, in your reviews, please tell me what you think about how this ends. Should Mello and Matt die canon-style or no? If they do live, would you like me to continue the story past the end of the investigation?

Things went back to normal. If it weren't for the occasional accidental meeting of eyes between Near and me, I would have decided I had dreamed the whole damn thing up. The normalcy actually started to become an irritating feeling at the back of my mind. Apparently, it took breaking my usual pattern to realize I passed every day in the exact same way. Woke up next to Matt, showered, ate, studied, ate, studied, ate chocolate, ate, went to bed next to Matt.

I developed a small twitch in my fingers whenever I wasn't moving. I threw myself into my studies. I was painfully aware of every 2nd place I got. It is both a blessing and a curse that I am too smart to delude myself. I'd taken psychology. Shit, I probably knew more about the subject than Sigmund fucking Freud, and I knew exactly how tentative my grip on sanity was getting. Something needed to change. Every fight I got into, every time I screamed until my voice gave, every time I laughed and laughed and didn't know why, I was aware of how I was reacting to the slightest provocation. Something needed to changer. I rolled over on my bed, thinking. I needed to leave Whammy's. Being here was driving me crazy.

In the world, I was smart, good-looking and a brilliant strategist; I could be anything. In here, I was nothing so much as number two. As disgusting as it was to admit, my life revolved around Near. I studied until I passed out over my books so that I could beat him, I sat outside his door both times he relapsed into blindness, and it was my guilt that first began teasing my tension into full-blown insanity.

Having come to my decision, I packed my things and used a pocket knife to tear out the shoebox I had carefully sewn into my mattress. I packed the gun and five chocolate bars, chewing the sixth as I went to find Matt. He was playing videogames, big surprise.

"Matt." I called, and he jumped, so absorbed he hadn't even noticed my entrance.

"What's up, Mels?" He asked, still playing.

"Matt!" I yelled, and he realized I was serious enough to press a button, making the horde of zombies on the screen freeze. "I'm leaving Whammy's." His eyes widened.

"Seriously?" I nodded.

"Seriously. You must have noticed I'm not…I haven't been-" I cursed whatever part of me made it so hard to admit defeat or weakness, even to my closest friend. "I haven't exactly been acting sane." Matt nodded, but was wise enough not to question me, for which I was grateful.

"Alright, so when're we leaving?"

"We?" I asked, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Of course 'we'. Not gonna break up the dream team over a change in headquarters." I swallowed hard, my chest filling with gratitude for Matt's constant presence which I would not have to lose.

"Yeah, of course not." Matt started throwing clothes into a bag. Then he looked suddenly regretful.

"I'll only be able to bring one console with me, so you'd better have a plan that involves enough money to deck out our new place."

"I've thought of a few things. Plan A isn't exactly legal though…" Matt seemed unsurprised.

"Wouldn't be you if we didn't break some rules." With Matt by my side, I felt less like I was running away and more like I was running towards.

"I was thinking we'd join the Mafia."

"Dude. Badass."

"I know, right?" Matt slipped into a ridiculous Godfather accent.

"Ees perfect. We'll haf money. Power. Women." I laughed at him. Already, the tension was draining away. It was such a relief to look forward to change.

Someone knocked on Matt's door. It was Roger. Matt and I exchanged a guilty glance. He couldn't already know, could he?

"Mello, I need you in my office, now." I didn't acknowledge him directly, but I stood up.

"See you in a few, Matty."

"Sure, I'll set up for our next game." Good. He'd be packed when I returned.

I was irritated to find Near already in Roger's office, solving the. Dumbest. Puzzle. In the world. I ignored

him and waited for Roger to get to the point.

"L is dead." Nothing could have prepared me for that. It was as surreal as God falling from the sky.

It was a name spoken in whispers, with reverence.

L. The reason we were even here.

L. Justice. Truth. The goal of everything we did.

"L is…what?" I heard my voice as if it was someone else speaking the words and registered an answer, although I already knew what he'd say.

L was dead.

I stormed out. I didn't even register the shuffling footsteps behind me until Near touched my elbow.

"WHAT?" I screamed at his face and he pulled his arm back, surprised.

"Why does Mello not wish to work together?"

"Because I'm sick of this! I don't want to deal with, with _**you**_" I put all the venom I could into the word, "for the rest of my life."

"I thought Mello would be pleased to tie when the alternative was failure." The little bastard.

"You want me to be happy things turned out this way? Whoopdy fucking doo, Near, now leave me the fuck alone! Its over! When two people race, you think they end it by going out for tea and scones? Stop acting like we're anything but rivals!" Near's fingers twitched in his hair.

"I thought…we would work more efficiently in tandem. Like we did-"

"When you were blind?" I hissed. "When you lay there helpless while I did everything for you? If you need a live-in nurse, have the goddamn decency to hire one instead of demeaning me with your worthless offers. I will not be your bitch." I stalked off to see if Matt was ready. It was time to go.

Near's POV

I was surprised by Mello's outburst. Had it really been usch a burden for him to stay with me? He had continued sneaking back to my room when my blindness reasserted itself, though I hadn't requested further assistance. I only had a couple of minutes to wonder at his reaction before Roger drew me back into his office.

I was given a laptop with L's old files on it, a credit card, a car and driver; the little accessories due to the position of L. I was also directed towards an agency I could hire employees from. It was understood that this was not an option. No doubt, at least one of my employees would be reporting back to Roger. It didn't particularly bother me. I had expected that. I selected a building to use as headquarters and asked that transportation be arranged for my trip there the following morning. I selected the 20 most promising workers from the employee files and informed them of their employment. Each accepted.

At 10:00, I went to bed so I could have exactly 8 hours to sleep, but a commotion woke me up at 2:12. I left my room, preparing for the worst. Perhaps it was an attack by Kira? If it was, it was my duty to protect myself as the next L. I was looking for a hiding place when Caroline, a member of the staff found me and said,

"Oh, thank goodness. We thought you may have gone missing too."

"Who else is missing?"

"It looks like Mello and Matt have liberated themselves." I had calculated the chances of Mello planning something like this high, but I was still surprised he'd made his move so quickly. I walked to his room. The mattress was torn over, and I remembered the gun he said he'd hidden there. I suddenly wished I'd interrogated him further regarding its purpose. Would Mello commit suicide? He was unstable, but it seemed unlikely that he'd bring Matt to witness it. I yawned, and was reminded of the time. Roger would figure it out. It was completely illogical for me to stand here in the middle of the night, worrying about someone who was not, in any way, my responsibility.

L didn't worry. L didn't wish he'd done something more to save a not-quite-friend. L didn't suffer from terrifying nightmares of suffocating white.

Unfortunately, I did.

I wasn't sure if I was standing, lying down or floating. I moved, experimentally, and discovered with horror that I could not even verify the success of my attempted action. I was trapped in a giant, white, sensory deprivation chamber. I could not see, hear, taste, smell or feel. I needed to scream. I could not move my mouth, but I needed to scream. I needed somehow to let the horror of my situation escape me, but I just lay there in stasis while inside my mind I screamed and screamed…

I woke up, covered in sweat and panting. I calmed down quickly enough, but I was still panicked enough to appreciate every shadow in my room, every crease in my blanket, my golden Mello shining on the wall, just everything that broke the white. I wiped my face and got dressed for the day. It was time to be L.

Matt's POV

Leaving actually seemed to make Mello happier. He smiled, he laughed- not the creepy, insane giggle he'd developed- and if his eyes were a little more haunted than the situation warranted, I wasn't going to break the peace over it. Even when he was being manic, it worked for us, keeping the small group of followers he'd acquired terrified of him, and never sure exactly how much he was capable of. Even I wasn't quite sure what he was capable of.

Our new companions were interesting. Mello'd had me delete their pasts in true Whammy fashion and they'd all picked new names. Nathan, Jeremy, Shayla and Obi-Wan. As in Kenobe. Despite the name choices, they were all highly gifted at what they did. Nathan was hand to hand combat, Jeremy did guns, Shayla blew shit up, and Obi-Wan was good at getting stuff and people where they needed to go. No questions asked. Mello didn't want a team big enough to revolt, and our base group of six quickly grew successful with his planning skills.

In the beginning, I tried to get to know some of the others, but the day after I'd spent all night playing Wii with Nathan, he was killed. Six hours later, we had a new combat expert, Jen, and I didn't bother trying to bond again. Mello and I were permanents, everyone else died and was replaced, except for Obi-Wan, who went back to Vietnam, satisfied that he had made enough to build a house for his parents. Eventually, as Mello had planned, our little group drew the attention of the Mafia.

Three of us were walking back from a surveillance mission when a black van popped open, screeching tires and all, and out leapt six men. They tied us up and shoved us back in to be driven to wherever. I clicked my watch where my hands were tied behind my back, sending the rest of our team automatic text messages with our coordinates every five minutes. Eventually, Jackson, Mello and I were dragged blindfolded into a building and forced to our knees.

The blindfolds were ripped off, harshly exposing our eyes to bright artificial lighting.

"Owww…" I complained and received a kick to the kidneys. I glared resentfully up at the man who'd kicked me, and he looked back down and smirked.

"You and your friends have created quite a stir." Everyone knew the face of Don Pitre, the Mafia boss, and we had suspected Carlos Dubiati of being the underboss for some time. This man obviously had authority, however, which meant he was most likely a Caporegime, kind of like a captain, in charge of a group of "soldiers".

"Actually, that would be _me _and my friends." Announced Mello, ignoring the guns on him and standing up. "If you would be so kind as to untie me, Caporegime, we could talk about it." The man looked him up and down before gesturing with his gun at one of his men who untied Mello. He stood up and shook his arms, sending the blood back into them before crossing them and looking down imperially at our kidnappers.

"So you knew my rank, eh? Must think you're pretty clever." Mello smiled.

"Oh, I know I'm pretty clever." The man swung a gun over to point at Jackson's head.

"You patronizing me? You wantchyer friends to die?" Without blinking, Mello whipped the gun from his waistband they'd never bothered taking from him and shot Jackson.

"Honestly, I don't particularly care either way. However, I assure you, sir, I am not patronizing you." The soldiers took his gun from his unresisting hands.

"Are you crazy?" The man asked, looking shocked that Mello had shot his own comrade. A morbid part of me wondered if he still would have fired if it was me.

"Out of my fucking head." Mello answered, nodding amiably. "Which is why I think we can benefit each other."

"The Family does not negotiate with brats. You want to talk business, have your boss send someone we can take seriously." Gunshots were heard outside, and Luis and Christa_ñ_a, our latest weapons experts burst in, shooting down everyone but the Caporegime in a matter of seconds. While they untied me, Mello put his foot on the man, who was kneeling in surrender.

"Take me seriously and you'll live longer." He tucked a card into the man's suit pocket and said, "If _you _want to talk business, call this number." He turned towards the three of us, starting to untie Jackson's body. "Leave him. He's not any use to us dead." Walking out, Mello looked collected and cool, badass screaming from every inch of his leather clad body. I think I played a videogame like him once. I took my place at his side, half a step behind and handed him a chocolate bar. Less than seven hours later, Dubiati called. We were in. He sent his man over to "work with us", although it was understood that he was reporting back to share all our methods, so they could be used and we could be replaced.

"Aren't you worried?" I asked Mello, one night.

"No." He said and smirked. "Nobody else can do what I do." Sure enough, less than a month later, Mello was officially made a Caporegime. He was given more men. Our missions grew more elaborate, the financial yields bigger. Finally, he was called in to meet with Pitre himself.

I trailed behind him, playing my role as his assistant. We were both patted down and relieved of our weapons before we were allowed into a luxuriant office. Pitre relaxed in a throne-like chair behind his vast oak desk. Mello sat in the chair on the other side of it, and I ignored the chair I was offered to stand behind Mello's chair. Mello steepled his fingers and looked over them at Pitre as if he was the summoner, and not the summoned. Pitre smiled.

"You, I like. You are not the usual scum who believes they have something to bring to the family." Mello smiled.

"Thank you, sir."

"Usually, I give bottle of scotch to people like you, however, you are a bit young to be drinking, no?"

"I'm a bit young in general."

"Still, I would like to thank you. What do you want?" Both Mello and I could tell this question went beyond the offer of a gift bottle of scotch. The Boss was, with good reason, honestly curious why Mello was doing what he was doing.

"I want to continue serving the family to the best of my abilities." Mello said formally. Pitre smiled.

"Who are you? You are coming to me from nowhere with no past and no goals, yet you know what you are doing. Have you ever been in another family?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I do not like to share. If you remember what you want, you may contact me through Viani." Pitre dismissed us with a wave of his hand and, as we were escorted out, a tall man with black hair handed us his business card. Sebastian Viani.

The next time we saw Pitre, the circumstances were not so nice. Almost a year later, and a year and six months after our escape from Whammy's, Mello called the number.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to the boss, now."

"I will inform him." Mello listened to the dial tone for almost half an hour before Pitre called.

"The mysterious Mello has remembered what he wants from me?"

"My only wish remains to serve you, sir."

"Then why are you calling?"

"Dubiati is no longer as loyal as he would like you to believe. There was a recent attempt on your life?"

"How do you know this?"

"I am very good at what I do, sir."

"So I see."

"Check the attacker's stepmother. Her maiden name is Regeni." Dubiati's wife's sister-in-law. The attack on its own made Dubiati's intentions suspicious, however, with the attacker dead, he would have to choose between family and The Family.

"Thank you, Mello." He hung up. Two days later, he called back.

"Another attempt was made on my life. Dubiati tipped his hand too soon. He is dead."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It appears I am owing you a favor."

"Thank you, sir."

"You still have not thought of anything?"

"No, sir."

"Enough of this 'sir'. My friends call me Leo."

"Are we friends, sir?" He laughed.

"I hope so. I would like to offer you a promotion." Mello became the highest Caporegime, second only to the underboss. People started calling Mello Pitre's "Braccio Sinistra", or his left-hand man. Mello would only smile. The bowing and scraping that began to accompany every visit to a member of the family served to boost his ego.

One day, he asked me for his usual chocolate bar, and I pulled on my vest to go to the store. I checked the cabinets to see what else we needed and was surprised to see we actually had a few chocolate bars left. I brought one to Mello who unwrapped it and brought it to his lips. He'd only eaten the corner when he got a phone call and waved me away. An hour later, he was violently ill. He barely made the night. The next day, he called in Christa_ñ_a who had continued working with us, somewhat bitterly, after a mission killed her brother Luis. She was force fed the rest of the poisoned chocolate as punishment for leaving the bars in the house. We watched her double over to writhe in pain, and begin to foam at the mouth before she died. Mello began to have all his food tasted, and when he couldn't, to lick his chocolate first and wait for adverse effects.

After another couple of attempts on his life, I moved back into his room. I actually slept easier with the familiar sound of his breathing, and in exchange, I said nothing about the occasional words he called out in his sleep.

Sometimes, he called for me, sounding just as he always did when he needed backup.

"Matt!" Sometimes, it was "idiot," "dumbass" or "moron," though I was never quite sure who he was addressing. Once he shouted a full "Goddamn albino sheep!" and my muffled giggles woke him up, though he could never get me to tell him what he'd said. And once or twice, it was "Near…" with his face scrunched up in concern, very unlike his usual scowl. Only his sleep betrayed his continued obsession; during the day he continued to act like a little lord, ordering his men about.

I continued to protect Mello, and to erase his soldier's pasts as part of their initiation, leaving us one of the few Mafias safe from Kira. Our Family, fairly small, grew, and encompassed almost half of Sicily. Occasionally, Pitre still asked Mello if he'd decided on a favor, but mostly left him be, as he helped him take over the city.

While Mello focused on that, I made it my job to track down "L", who we knew was Near, and keep track of his investigation. He made slow progress on the case, but eventually reached the point L had been at.

When we were sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt that Yagami was Kira, Mello decided it was time to make our move. He called Pitre on the direct line to him we had, and told him,

"I'm ready for that favor."


	7. Mello Gets Burned

_**A/N: So I'm looking for an anime like Kuroshitsuji with a master/servant type relationship between two characters with a dab of sheer badassery on top. Extra points if the master is actually a kid. Extra extra points for lovely period costumes and attractive characters. PM me!**_

Oh, and I don't own Death Note.

In your reviews, tell me what you think about how I did all that Mafia stuff last chapter. I know it wasn't really Death Note or particularly focused on Mello/Matt, so I hope it didn't bother you too much. It was necessary plot stuff. Feedback, please!

There was a long pause, before Pitre laughed and said,

"Mello, you have protected our Family from Kira, the law, and ourselves. Ask for whatever you want. I do not offer this lightly."

"I know, Leo. I am going to Tokyo. I will be taking Matt with me, but I would also like permission to take a few men."

"Of course. How much money do you need?"

"I haven't spent anything outside of what was necessary that I've made. I don't need any money."

"Nonsense. I will give you a credit card. Use what you need."

"Thank you, sir."

"While I am there, I would like to make an alliance on your behalf with another Family."

There was a long pause.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Have I been wrong yet?"

"Mello, you have been like a son to me." Mello winced, though Pitre couldn't see it over the phone. "The family does not usually allow non-Sicilians to join, but I have always made it clear you are with me. I know you are not here because you are misguided, like so many young people who join. You have always had a purpose. Does this vacation of yours have anything to do with it?" Mello considered.

"Yes."

"Will you be coming back alive?" Mello let air out through his teeth, making a hissing noise.

"I don't know."

"I see. I always suspected something like this would come. It is why I never made you my Consigliere, though your advice has always been valuable to me. I was going to put you in line to succeed me." Mello's eyes widened. Only I knew how much this meant to him.

"Thank you."

"Take whatever and whoever you need. Try to return to us, Mello."

"Thank you." We only ended up taking three people. Nevelli, Jensen, and Donello; weapons, combat, and explosives, respectively. We quickly found a new hideout in Tokyo and began to play the same damn game over again. This time, though, we had resources, and it only took two weeks to contact Rod Ross, the head of the "Mafia" in Tokyo. It was little more than a rival gang, with none of the honor between men that the Sicilian Mafia had had. Here, it was mostly about the drug trade, and prostitutes were passed around like candy. Still, they readily agreed to a joining between the two families, which Pitre was happy enough to hear about, though he had not sought out expanding overseas. When Mello busted a rival gang, we became equally important in the hierarchy of Rod Ross's Mafia as we had been in Pitre's.

Mello was able to do pretty much whatever he wanted, as long as he continued protecting Ross's trade and paid for the hideouts he got busted in his attempts to pin down Kira. He began plotting against Near, kidnapping the NPA director, and then the daughter of the Chief of Police.

The same day we announced our willingness to trade for the Death Note, I caught the first recording of a dialogue between Near and his Kira suspect. We retaliated the next day by using our newly acquired Death Note to kill Near's SPK members. It seemed petty to me, but Mello was happy.

He also demanded the identity of the new L, but again, it was mostly for show, since I was able to leech all of Near's information from him. I watched as Mello became a key player in the Kira game, demanding cooperation from the US government and wiping out an entire special forces squad as they tried to take us in our base. Ten days later, they tried again.

Our members died around us, only leaving the three we had brought from Sicily, who escaped with me, following usual procedure. Mello returned to us in our safe house two days later, badly burnt and near death. We treated him as well as we could, using Pitre's credit card for the first time to find him a doctor who could stay quiet. He made an almost inhumanly fast recovery, by sheer force of will, and demanded to be updated constantly on the case. When Near finally shared his suspicions that the second L was Kira, our team of five, plus two of Ross's men flew over. We rented a small house to use as a hideout.

That night, Mello and I had our first fight, while I peeled off his bandages for the last time.

"Matt, tomorrow I want you to go confront Near." My mouth dropped open.

"What?"

"I need you to get the photo of me he has, and to-"

"Why don't you get it yourself?" I asked, and Mello seemed to finally register that I was not happy.

"Why don't you want to go?"

"Because you need to go! Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but you need to get the fuck over it and work things out." This time, Mello's mouth dropped open.

"The hell, Matt? What's wrong with you? Follow orders!"

"No!" I shouted at him, and he actually slapped me across the face. I ripped the last bandage off, harder than I needed to and ran downstairs, planning to leave. Apple would pay a fortune to have me.

"Matt!" I whirled to face him.

"I am not one of your lackeys, Mello. Don't you ever think that I'm here for any reason other than wanting to be here." Mello actually looked shocked I would talk to him that way. The two who had been downstairs were looking on in surprise, and Mello waved them away. They left, no doubt, still eavesdropping.

"Matt…"

"What, Mello?"

"I…I can't deal with him." He deflated. "I've never been able to. I'll go in there and he'll break me down in five seconds." We had never, ever talked about what had happened. Mello admitting this level of defeat really worried me.

"Lets go together." I said, slipping my hand into his and squeezing. He squeezed back, gratefully.

"Why don't you want to go, really?" He asked. I frowned.

"Its always been you and him. Whenever I get in between you two, it feels like I'm interfering. And I'm worried about what's going to happen." Mello raised an eyebrow. "Mello, you know I'd die for you?" Mello rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so melodramatic."

"I'm serious."

"I'd take a bullet for you too, man." I looked him straight in the eyes.

"I really mean I'd die for you. Please don't throw away our lives." The two statements kind of contradicted, but I saw that he could see in my eyes that I knew everything he'd been planning. I would do it, but I didn't want to. If there was any other way, I didn't want to. He saw all this and said,

"You really could have been number one, couldn't you?" I smiled.

"Youd've been such a bitch it wouldn't have been worth it." He smiled back.

"I'll go alone tomorrow, Matt. And…I'll think about what you said." God, I hoped he did.

Mello's POV

I really, really meant to do what Matt said and play nice with Near, but the moment I saw the little albino bastard, all I wanted to do was shoot him. What can I say? I'm an impulsive guy. I looked down the gun at Near, and though I was pleased to see his subordinates react in shock, Near himself was as unfazed as ever.

"Do you have something for me?" I hissed at him. He nodded, still playing with his trains.

"Leave us." He swept a dismissive hand towards his employees, who didn't move. The woman said,

"Sir, with all due respect, he has a gun to your head." Oddly protective for a woman willing to leak info to us. Near looked surprised, and a pale hand lifted delicately through the air. When his fingertips brushed the metal of the gun, it clicked for me. I stuffed the gun back into my pants and said,

"Shit, Near. How long?" He set down his train, giving me his full attention with unfocused eyes.

"Two days." I wondered if his employees knew, but they seemed baffled by my change in demeanor. If they didn't know, he wasn't accepting their help. Had he eaten in all that time? I did the first thing that came to mind and pressed the rest of my chocolate bar into his hand. Near put a tiny piece on his tongue. When he made no move to eat the rest, I ordered,

"Eat it!" Near rolled his eyes.

"Unlike Mello, I can not sustain myself on chocolate." I considered this.

"Fair enough. Where's the kitchen."

"Downstairs." I picked Near up and settled him on my back, where he clung to me like a small child. He felt almost exactly the same; I supposed he was the smallest bit bigger, but I was a little stronger, too. The barrel of a gun in my face stopped me. The woman again.

"Get your gun out of my face." I ordered, for Near's benefit. Of course, even knowing one of his subordinates was pointing a gun at me, he couldn't do anything till he knew who it was. "What's the woman's name?" I prompted, and he said,

"Halle, please do not shoot Mello."

"He's a psychopath, sir! He could hurt you. Put him down." Her grip on the gun tightened.

"Mello will not hurt me." He said, with more certainty than I could believe. Halle lowered the gun slightly.

"Thanks," I said mockingly. "My face is too pretty to ruin, don't you agree?" There was venom in her voice when she retorted,

"You mean ruin more?" Near's hands traced from my neck to my face and he started touching my scars with dismay.

"Mello?"

"We'll talk about it later, Near." I turned to leave, and Halle tried to follow me. Quickly, I stopped and said, "We need to talk alone." Near ordered,

"Please turn off the audio recording in the kitchen. You may continue to monitor Mello visually." I walked out with Near on my back.

"Psychopath? What did you tell them about me?"

"Nothing that is not true." Halle ran after us and addressed Near, saying,

"Please take this, just in case." And pressed a gun into Near's hands. It looked weird, and made him look even younger. As soon as Halle left, Near sighed and handed it to me.

"I trust you are not here to injure me?"

"No."

"Then will Mello hold this? It is heavy…" I smirked at the face Halle would no doubt make when she saw the footage. In the kitchen, the fridge was nearly empty, but I found enough to make us each a sandwich. I wrapped Near's in a napkin and pushed it into his fingers. He took a bite, then ate the sandwich quickly, completely out of character for him.

"Mello assumed I do not eat during these periods so as not to reveal my condition?"

"Seemed like something you'd do."

"You are correct." I gave him my sandwich too.

"How is it?" Near smirked at me.

"The sandwich? Its quite good, Mello will make someone a lovely wife someday." I growled at him, but he chose not to notice, as usual. While he ate, I looked at him, knowing I could stare without him noticing. He was a little bigger, as I'd noticed before, but what little he'd gained in height, he'd lost in weight. There were slight bags under his eyes, which looked so much like L's, I felt a brief pang in my chest. He sounded different, too. Before his voice had been a soft monotone, now the monotone was slightly harsh. He was acting more assertive, too, although it was probably from the years of ordering about his little team. And the wife comment; clearly he was still a master of getting under my skin. And yet- as soon as I'd realized he couldn't see again, I'd lost any animosity towards him and put away my gun, taking him downstairs to feed him and generally act like a mother hen. This was why I'd wanted to send Matt. I really couldn't trust myself with Near. I never knew what I'd do. I mean, I always did what I wanted, but I didn't know what I wanted, so I didn't know what I'd do. Augh. Something like that.

"Why did you refuse to work with me?" I tensed, though he couldn't see.

"You know why."

"Mello is referring to the incident in which I was attacked, or Matt discovering the assistance he gave me?" What? He thought it might be about that? Idiot! Suddenly, I wished I had explained to the sheep exactly why I was leaving when I did, so that he didn't spend all these years thinking I was distant for the wrong reason. Not that it mattered. Riiight.

"When they beat you up, obviously."

"Its not Mello's fault what happened."

"Its my fault I didn't stop it."

"It was not your responsibility to stop it."

"Yes it was!" I snapped, and then stopped. Why, why, why did every interaction between us fill me with irritation, inferiority or guilt? Why?

"Why?" It was a natural question, but I ignored him anyways.

"If Mello believed it was his place to act, why did he not?"

"I didn't know if I could win." He nodded.

"It was likely you could not. You did the logical thing. I harbor no ill will."

"You're not supposed to do the logical thing when a fr- when someone gets attacked. You're supposed to help." I prayed he wouldn't catch the slip.

"Does Mello consider me a friend?" Of course, he caught it anyways.

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Almost against my will, I found myself justifying myself to him.

"When I first saw it happening, I stopped, ready to go in and help you. But then I realized there was a decent chance of losing. So I started planning how to take out as many as I could before I went down. And then I realized I was planning to go into a fight and lose, for _you_." He flinched at the way I referred to him, but I continued. "Which made no fucking sense, 'cause since when have we ever been close? I was just trying not to feel guilty about the contacts thing. Except, standing there, I felt more guilty."

"Obviously, it affected you enough to make a life-changing decision, regarding L's succession. Why?" I was only responding because I'd promised Matt I would try to reach out, to make something change. Not because I'd felt like shit over this for years. Ugh. Self denial really wasn't my thing. I wanted him to understand why I'd done what I'd done.

"Because I felt like a coward. In the end, I left because not only did I want to lose, but I didn't want people to know I could lose, or worse, to know that I _would_ lose to protect you. And it was all stupid because almost five years later, I don't talk to any of those people who's opinions mattered so much. I knew it would end up this way then, too."

"I wish I could see your face." I scoffed at him, trying to cover up the vulnerability I'd just displayed.

"Why? You're shit at reading emotions."

"Still, I would like to see. That reminds me, is the scarring bad?" I ignored him again. It was too recent, the scars on my mind as bad as the ones on my face. "And you grew your hair out. Did Mello hope to hide the damage?" As if I could. Half my damn face was gone. My reply was stiff.

"I hadn't noticed. I'll cut it tonight." Near reached out to my face, and I wanted to find an excuse, any excuse for him not to touch me. I wished I could complain about…sandwich grease on his fingers, but of course Near would never get a drop of anything on himself and blemish his perfect white skin with anything so base or human as _germs_. His fingertips trailed over my face, quickly finding the edge of the scarring and touching the line where my skin met the damaged tissue. He explored my face and only paused twice; once at my eye, to see if it was whole, and once at my lips, for reasons I couldn't fathom.

"Anywhere else?" I only had my vest on, so I unzipped it and pulled it off my damaged shoulder, guiding his hand over to the burn. The burn was still painful there, and although Near was gentle, I had to grit my teeth. When he finished, he tugged on my rosary and I let him slip it over my neck and play with it while I put my vest back on and regained my composure.

"Mello?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me a story before you go?"

"Sure."

"Tell me the story of how Mello dies."

"What?" Where my intentions really that obvious? First Matt, then Near.

"I know you, Mello. Do not see my actions as a goad, there are ways for us to succeed without killing yourself."

"Don't be stupid, Near, I'm not gonna kill myself."

"But you won't avoid it if you think it will help you win."

"How about I tell you Snow White instead?"

"Mello can not expect to be helped if he refuses to-"

"I don't need your help!" There was silence for a bit.

"Is that what it comes down to? Is it pride that will finally kill Mello? I do not wish to see you dead."

"If this is your stupid way of trying to figure out my plans, I'm leaving." Near sighed.

"I will not ask again. Please stay. My room is on the seventh floor." I almost refused, but I saw the expression on his face that was pure purple-eyed Near so I picked him back up and took him upstairs. His room looked exactly the same as Whammy's down to the white pictures on the wall. And me. I pulled the picture of myself off, and turned it over to see "Dear Mello" written on the back and wondered what it meant. Near returned from his closet with a new pair of white pajamas on, like anyone could tell the difference. He removed his contacts, and I smiled at the purple eyes that couldn't see me. Then he slipped into bed.

"Near, its like, six thirty, why are you going to bed?"

"You said you'd tell me a story."

"…Snow White doesn't take that long."

"Tell me about what you did when you left Whammy's."

So I did. Sure enough, by the time I finished, it was almost ten thirty. It was a miracle we hadn't been interrupted. Near looked thoughtful for a while, before he asked,

"Mello, will you please give me Halle's gun and yours? I would like to tell you something, but I'm concerned you'll shoot me if I do." That statement didn't exactly inspire confidence.

"Can't I just promise not to shoot you?"

"No."

Against my better judgement, I handed over both guns. Near climbed out of bed to open a drawer in one of his cabinets that actually had a pinpad. He ran his fingers over the numbers before moving to obscure my view of the code. Entering the code, he quickly put my guns in, and closed the cabinet again. He also put his contacts back in which confused me.

"Fine. Now what did you want to tell me?" He pressed a button by his bed.

"Halle, Rester and Gevanni, please come up."

"Well?" I asked, wanting to hear what it was before they came. Near ignored me until the three of them filed in.

"Please restrain Mello." I ran for the cabinet, but they handcuffed me and stopped me from moving.

"What the hell, Near?"

"I'm putting you in confinement. Clearly, you are suicidal, and you continue to put me in difficult situations."

"GODAMMIT NEAR I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" Near tilted his head.

"Isn't it a good thing I took your guns away then? Gevanni, please take the phone from his pocket." He didn't look thrilled to reach into my leather pants, but he did and took my phone. "Is there a Matt in the contacts?" He looked through.

"There's a 'Matty'."

"That's the one. Please call him and hand me the phone." Gevanni clicked something and handed Near the phone. Don't pick up. Don't pick up. Two rings later, Matt picked up.

"Matt, this is Near…Please desist…I assure you, he is fine. Mello, please say something." The moment Gevanni's hand uncovered my mouth, I started yelling.

"THE GODDAMN SHEEP HANDCUFFED ME AN-...mmph!"

"You heard that? Good…obviously not…no, I do not intend to harm him…You are aware, of course, that if this continues, you will both end up dead?...then you are willing to listen…yes…yes…you know him better than I…Well, I assume you already know the way here?…I will see you soon then." Near snapped my phone shut. "Take him to one of the empty rooms, put him under surveillance and lock him in. Please make sure there's nothing he can use as a weapon." As I was dragged out, I spat back at Near,

"You manipulative bastard!"

"Yes." He agreed, sounding completely unrepentant.

And then the door shut.

_**A/N: Also, in your reviews, keep telling me what you think about the ending. Are Mello/Matt dying? Should I continue the story past the end of the Death Note investigation?**_


	8. Kissing Is Fun

**A/N: If any of you are reading my other fic, The Lion and The Shark, you've probably noticed that I've been ignoring it because RL has been kicking my ass. And then knocking me down and stepping on my face repeatedly and then laughing. Sorry, I'll get back to that ASAP. In your reviews, keep telling me if Mello/Matt should live or die and if this fic should continue past the events of Death Note.**

**I do not own Death Note, or make money from my writings. In a communist society, we would **_**all**_** own Death Note. I'll give you a moment for your mind to un-blow itself. Okay. Carry on.**

Matt's POV

I left everyone in the house and headed over to Near's building. They led up to a bedroom, where Near was actually tucked into bed with a white stuffed rabbit, looking exactly the same as he had four years before. He didn't react to me entering the room, but he turned his head in my direction when I closed the door behind me. Curiously, I looked around. It looked exactly the same as his room at Whammy's.

"Matt." He acknowledged me, and his voice was almost the same, just a little bit rougher.

"Near." I replied, then asked "Where's Mello?"

"He's in confinement." I'd assumed as much from what I'd caught of Mello's shouting over the phone.

"Why?"

"Mello has been acting strangely recently, right?"

"How would you know? You two were never close."

"Fine, then. Mello has been acting insane."

"Actually, that's pretty typical behavior for Mello."

"Nevertheless, now that Kira has his name, any potentially self-destructive behavior is suspect. You are updated on the case?"

"Of course." Well, I'd read all Near's files anyways.

"Then you are aware Kira can control his victims for up to 23 days." My eyes widened.

"You don't think-"

"Honestly? No. I don't think so, but it remains a possibility, and if confining Mello has the side benefit of saving his life, I'm not particular about what I'm saving it from." I leaned as close to him as I could without us touching so I could stare into his face. He looked past me still, so I actually grabbed his shoulders and made him face me. Even so I had an eerie feeling like he was looking through me, even as his eyes pointed straight at mine.

"Why are you doing this? What is Mello to you?" The same two who had escorted me up burst through the door, pointing guns at me.

"Let go of him!" Ordered the woman. I recognized her voice. She was our leak. To my surprise, Near waved them away as if he was irritated.

"Matt will not hurt me."

"With all due respect, sir, you don't seem to be the best judge of that."

"Stand outside, then." Reluctantly, they left.

"What happened between the two of you? Why does your name still make Mello angry for the rest of the day? Why is there a picture of him on your wall?"

"You said I had nothing alive on my walls." It was so random, I was caught off guard. I thought I remembered saying something like that ages ago, but it had been years. Weird. That wasn't the only question I'd asked either.

"So what are you and Mello?" Near's face betrayed nothing. "I don't know. We are not friends, I think."

"So…?"

"So we are nothing. Actually, at this moment, Mello probably considers me the bane of his existence." I actually laughed.

"Yeah, well, locking him up'll do that." He sighed.

"Would you like to talk to him?"

"And say what? Oh hey, Mels, me and the sheep decided to keep you here for your own good."

"Tell him he's confined to the building, explain why, and offer him the full use of my facilities so he can continue to conduct his own investigation from here." I was surprised by the generosity of the offer, but unsure if he knew the extent of what he was offering. He would have to overlook a LOT of our activities.

"You know…me and Mello…not everything we're doing is exactly legal."

"I am fully aware of everything you've been involved with during the last four years." It was that more than anything that convinced me. If Mello trusted Near enough to tell him everything for whatever reason…and anyways, it'd give me more of a chance to figure out what was going on. Maybe, when I figured out what was going on, I'd tell Near, 'cause he honestly seemed as clueless as me.

"Fine. Take me to Mello."

"Lidner? Rester? Please come in." They almost knocked down the door in their haste.

"Did he attack you, sir?"

"No. Please take him to Mello. The two of them will be working here, along with some of their associates. How many, Matt?"

"Three." I said, holding up the appropriate number of fingers.

"This…this boy and the psychopath?"

"Plus three." I reminded her cheerfully. "Anyways, its pretty weird calling me a boy when you're working for _him_." Lidner hated me already. I could tell. It was actually pretty entertaining. I linked my arm through hers and winked.

"Don't worry, babe. I'm legal." She yanked her arm free and huffed.

"you wanna see your friend or not?" Outside Mello's door, some of my bravado evaporated.

"You sure he doesn't have his gun?" I asked. She nodded.

"He did escape from his handcuffs about an hour ago, though, so be careful." I opened the door a crack. Something flew at me, so I closed it in time for whatever it was to smash against the door.

"Mels? Melly, its me…"

"YOU LET THE GODDAMN SHEEP LOCK ME UP! TRAITOR!" Every few words was punctuated by something else breaking.

"Mels, I have chocolate…" The screaming stopped. He had been isolated for a few hours.

"Fine. I won't kill you till I've heard what you want to say." I walked in with the candy extended before me and let him eat almost half of it before I started.

"Mello, Kira has your name and face. Near thinks-" He snorted. "…and I agree that its not a good idea for you to be running missions when Kira can start controlling you at any minute." Mello scowled.

"Call him Light. He's not God." He toyed with his crucifix, and I waited for him to talk. "Fine. Can I be let out now?" I winced.

"That's the thing, Mel. To avoid Kira using you as a possible threat, we're gonna be working here, from this building."

Mello's POV

"We're gonna be working here, from this building." I looked in his eyes for the sparkle of amusement that would give away the inevitable "Just kidding!" but he was serious.

"WHAAAT?" I exploded. He might as well have said we'd be working here with Near. "How dare you decide something like that without even asking if I wanted to work with the undergrown albino b-"

"SHUT UP!" Matt yelled at me, and I was so shocked I actually complied. Matt was always such a follower. He didn't seem to ever care what I had us doing, and he meekly obeyed most of my orders. I mean, he'd shouted before, but never at _me_.

"The same way you've made every decision for us from the start. I'm not a fucking dog, Mel, I get a say and I'm saying we're staying here!" I stared. He was a lot more upset than he'd let on about the whole dying for our mission thing. "It's not even about Kira, its about you. You are going to kill us both, all by yourself." I opened my mouth, but before I could even start, he cut me off. "And don't even start with the whole albino sheep rant because we both know there's more between you than rivalry."

"That's not-" This time, a whole two words got out before…

"I said to shut up! We won't even be working together, we'll just be in the same building, so don't look at him if you don't want. At least I won't have to hack every tiny bit of information off of him and we won't be dodging NPA raids every five seconds. People have died, Mello. Even if they were dumbasses that we didn't like, they were still people that followed us. I don't want to be next." And meek, follower Matt stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him.

It took a few minutes before I could stop gaping at the door long enough to try the handle, and to my surprise, it was unlocked. The woman, Halle Lidner was outside. She looked just as surprised that Matt had yelled at me. Actually, she seemed somewhat impressed. I hoped she wouldn't consider this behavior normal.

"Your friend left to get your other…associates." I got the feeling she knew all about where Matty and I had come from. I crossed my arms and leaned back so I could look confidently down at her when I sneered

"Fine. Where will we be working from?" I half-expected Near to put us in a janitor's closet or something, but we actually got a room almost identical to his, down to the monitors covering every inch of one wall. In addition, our room had a nice lounge area with the kind of couch I like to do my planning on. I hate it when Near doesn't give me anything to complain about.

By the time I was finished inspecting the room, Matt had returned with my subordinates. The three of them seemed extremely wary of the situation. Of course, it was one of the rules of the Family to never associate with someone who was affiliated with the police in any way. The only reason I had avoided this rule was the fact that I hadn't technically existed before I appeared in Sicily. To them, our new government building must have seemed extremely suspect. When Rester appeared, looking every bit like a police officer, Nevelli snapped and drew her gun. His gun was pointed at her in almost the same moment, but Near appeared beside Rester and spoke fluent Italian to her.

"Ma'am, I apologize if my subordinate has done anything to threaten you. We do not mean any harm, and only hope you will feel comfortable and safe here during your stay." In English, "Rester, put your gun down. Show our guests to their rooms." Nevelli visibly relaxed. It had taken her weeks to fully warm up to Matt and me, but of course, one look at that baby-faced sheep and she was at ease and ready to spill our secrets…

"Thank you." She said. "I must admit, it is surprising to meet a friend of Mello's. We've never met anyone but Matt-"

"We're not friends!" I snapped, ignoring Matt's warning glare. Near smirked, looking more evil than I had previously known the little cotton ball was capable of looking.

"Now, we have equal facilities and access to the same information." Obviously. But Near was never one to waste time by stating an obvious, so I waited for the point. When none was forthcoming, I studied him more closely and recognized the competitive gleam in his eyes. It clicked.

"Oh." I smiled. "So we'll see who catches Kira first?" Near's smirk grew, confirming my guess.

"Let the race begin." After he walked out, I stretched, enjoying the familiar rush of endorphins from getting back in the game. Competitiveness fully invoked, I sprawled on the couch and began plotting. Matt snorted at me even as he went to get me my chocolate.

"I still think you two'd do better working together. You're lucky Near knows the only way to keep you is if you think there's a chance of kicking his ass."

"More than a chance." I mumbled, trying not to let him distract me. He pouted.

"Don't stay mad at me, Mels, I knew he wouldn't just strap you to the bed for the whole investigation. This is kind of nice, and its only for one investigation." I bared my teeth at him. My thinking process was officially broken.

"Oh, yeah, one investigation will be bearable because he's completely respecting my space by letting me have visiting hours." Irritation made my blood hot, and I could hear my heart pumping in my ears, whipping my fury about the entire situation into that one thought. I was trapped. Trapped. Even if I got to investigate, I was still not allowed to walk out, and that mattered more than anything. Almost anything. Maybe if I could prove that I deserved to be first all along, then Near would be trapped here with me. That would be very different. Just had to win. I breathed, and focused my fury and panic into a focused concentration. I would win. Nevelli interrupted the process with a soft-spoken question.

"Your ah…associate. He is _polizia_, no?" Near's voice came over the intercom, making everyone jump.

"No. The president has just informed me that we will no longer be working together."

"_Il Presidente_…" She breathed, looking impressed. I tried to ignore the looks they all shot me.

"No one can stand you for long, can they, sheep?" It was one of the unbreakable laws of the Mafia; a mafioso could not be a police officer, or be associated with law enforcement. I had only really avoided persecution by this law because no one knew anything about my past. It was lucky Near was no longer working with the authorities in an official capacity, though I was clearly still toeing the line.

Not long after, I let Matt drag me to bed. In our room, my gun lay on the side dresser with a note for me. It was typed, of course; Near couldn't have handwritten it without being able to see the paper.

_Mello_

_I am aware that Nevelli, Jensen and Donello are with you in part so they can report back to Pitre. It is only fair that you know the reason agents Lidner, Rester and Gevanni are still alive after your Death Note attack is that they were hired by Whammy's to monitor me. Roger does not know that I know this, however, he surely suspects I have figured it out by now. Lidner, in particular, demonstrates overprotective tendencies towards me, however, she was surprisingly willing to share information with you._

_N_

Rolling my eyes, I flipped the paper over and sketched a quick drawing of a sheep. After taping it to the security camera, I lay down next to Matt in my white room, in my white bed with my white covers and tried not to think of Near. Easy. After Matt had been snoring for a couple of hours, I gave up and walked out of my room to wander the halls. I found myself outside of Near's HQ room, where I was surprised to see him still up.

"It kind of kills the point of tucking you in if you get back up and work." I drawled. He straightened up when I made my presence known.

"I am approximately 60% more productive when I do not have to hide my condition." I walked over to him.

"Don't think I've forgotten that stunt. The moment you're feeling better, I'm going to kick your ass." He nodded, seeming unperturbed by my threat.

"Why does Mello never harm me when I am like this?" He waved a hand up to gesture towards his eyes. I huffed, blowing hair out of my face, which only served to remind me I had to get it cut to serve the little brat wrong.

"I dunno…Its like kicking you when you're down."

"But you have kicked me when I am down. Kicked me, and pinched me, and hit me…" Perfect memory. Charming.

"Maybe because its not a challenge. You're weak like this and there's no victory in beating the weak."

"Maybe? Mello is not sure?" That wasn't the part of that he was supposed to respond to. When I didn't answer, he changed topics.

"You smell like cigarettes." His nose wrinkled with distaste.

"Yeah, well, side effect of sleeping with Matt."

"You…are in a sexual relationship with-"

"No!" I saw surprise flash across his face at my abrupt answer and realized he'd been teasing. What a weird sense of humor. Then his eyes narrowed as he came to a conclusion.

"You took that question seriously. There is history, then?"

"Yeah. Er, when I was made a caporegime we all went out drinking." It wasn't a conversation I particularly wanted to have, but I answered in as headstrong a tone as I could manage while mentally reciting my mantra of _no regrets_. "Usually, I don't let my group drink, but since it was a special occasion, we did. A lot. Matty said I was pretty like…like a girl, and then he kissed me and I kissed him back. It was nice, obviously, I mean, kissing is always nice, but we didn't really feel anything more that way, so we stopped and we haven't pursued anything like that."

"Kissing always feels nice…?" Near asked with genuine curiosity and then blushed as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. He probably hadn't. I shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess." Suddenly, I came to a realization. "Near, have you ever been kissed?"

"…"

"Near?" I watched, fascinated, as he went from pink to red. Finally, I took pity on him. "S'no big deal." Still, he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"Near?" When he tilted his face towards me, I crossed the room and mashed my mouth against his, quickly, before I could change my mind. His lips were soft and unprepared.

"See? No big deal." I announced, keeping my voice from catching by speaking through clenched teeth. Then, before he could say anything, I turned and quickly walked out.


	9. House Arrest

**A/N: I haven't updated in a LONG time. I have a reason for that. Basically, my mother eloped with a convicted felon who killed a man last year among other things and he had her drive him to his ex-girlfriend's house where he kidnapped his own son (kinda, they didn't really have a custody agreement) and in retaliation, she and some friends came to our house and slashed the tires on mom's car and smashed the windows, so my mother called the police who came over, but apparently, the terms of his parole don't allow him to have any police contact or something so he had to pay a fine and mother helped him pay it, but then couldn't pay the house bill and moved us to an apartment in far far away because he was supposed to get a job and didn't, and I had an argument with her about why he was just living off of us and how it wasn't safe for him to be in our home when he had a past of domestic violence and the background check we ran also suggested he wasn't good to be around my sisters and me but she took his side and I stayed with my grandparents for a while, and I didn't get the computer the whole time because the only one in the house, my grandfather uses for work, so I only had minimal messaging from my phone. Before all this, we were respectable, upper-middle class citizens. Jeez.**

**Therefore, my absence is justified.**

**However, we've worked things out- kinda- so expect regular updates to resume.**

**Sorry.**

**Thanks for not giving up on me.**

**And, as always, review! You all are my inspiration. So add your review to the Mello and Near Fluff Fund.**

Mello's POV

I _kissed_ Near. Jesus.

I had always been impulsive, and it had always served me well. Until now. With every step I took away from Near's office, a little more of the reality of what I'd done crashed down on me. I thought of his shocked face as I left and winced. As proud as it made me to bring expression to the usually stone-faced sheep, it always seemed to be the wrong expressions. Shock. Hurt. Fear. What did I want him to look like? I still wanted to defeat him, but his pain brought me guilt. I painted a look of awed adoration on the face of the Near in my head and smiled. Worst case scenario, he'd kick us out, and that wouldn't be bad at all. I doubted it though, since he hadn't fought back. I froze midstep. Hadn't…fought…back. In my mind, the scene from Whammy's replayed. Near _never_ fought back. How was I to know if, to him, this was just another attack he had to endure? Sure, he'd responded, a_very _little bit, but only after I practically sucked his tongue into my mouth. Thinking about it in those terms made it real again.

I _kissed_ Near. Jesus.

Near's POV

I licked my lips carefully, to ensure that, yes, the tingling there was real. Which meant Mello really had…had…and when he'd done it, he had moved my chair, leaving me with no sense of placement in the room. I resolved myself to a miserable few minutes of crawling on the floor, searching for a landmark when the sound of breathing alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone. I turned my head towards the sound and considered what greeting I could use that was appropriate for any audience.

"Yes?" I asked. Matt's voice answered,

"Hey, Near." I waited. "Is there a reason why Mello just stormed out of here so fast he almost stepped on me and didn't notice?"

"Most likely." That seemed neutral enough.

"So, tell me what it is." I opened my mouth to say…I did not know what, but Matt saved me the work of thinking of a response by interrupting,

"Are you okay? Your lips look bruised…" I tried to will the heat away from my face, but it was too late. "No…" He breathed. "Were you…? MELLOOO!" He ran down the hall, and I traced the sound of his departure to the door.

Feeling my way up to my room, I did my best not to dread the next day. I had almost forgotten…

Days, for me, tended to blend into one another; a ceaseless passage of day into night into day. When I began to go blind, it became a passage of color into oblivion into color. The moment Mello walked in, I could mark by actual events and the emotions they inspired. I simultaneously mourned and celebrated the loss of control that signified Mello's re-entrance into my life.

With the next day came the pleasant surprise of sight. I considered seeking out Mello, but decided instead to avoid him, not knowing how his confrontation with Matt had gone. It took almost the whole day before I broke and used the security camera to observe him. I caught my breath. He looked the same, but different. Better. The somewhat awkward sprawl of his gangly limbs had become a confidant-looking recline that clamed both the couch and the table his foot rested on. His arms had gained some muscle, which moved languidly under his tanned skin. His hair was uneven, and looked tousled, which was quickly explained by the way he snapped his head to the left to order one of his subordinates to do something for him. And the scars…

I had expected horror, based on the note of shame in Mello's voice, and shock in Lidner's, but as I looked at it…there was no drooping eyelid or altered facial structure. Mello looked exactly as Mello as before. More so, even, since now the dark notes of his personality were openly displayed on his face. His eyes were worth the damage, too. They shone out through the scars like they themselves were the fire that had marked his face. Mello looked dangerous, but somehow retained his pretty look. I hoped he liked his scars. I did. I wanted to touch them again, and caught my fingers reaching out towards the screen. This was hardly appropriate. Or was it? If I was being inappropriate, Mello was being outrageous. I put a thumb to my lips like L used to, trying not to acknowledge that I looked more like a petulant child than a ruminating genius.

I froze the image and banished it to a small corner of my workspace, then continued working. Eager to make up for work I hadn't completed due to the inefficiency of being blind, I worked until almost midnight. When I looked up, Mello and Matt were standing by the door. I waited for the inevitable assault. Instead, Matt announced,

"We think we have a plan, but you need to get us the okay to make an arrest." Then he shot Mello a disapproving look and marched away.

"Hey…" Mello said, and given permission by the tone in his voice, I looked up. Being with Mello, I decided, was like glancing over to see the fire from the fireplace had relocated to the couch. The same jumping feeling in my abdomen. My eyes traced up the scars on his shoulder to his face, which were even more captivating up close. Privately, I thought they looked like they were supposed to be there, and were as much a part of his growth as the development of fingers or eyes.

"Hello." He fidgeted for a few moments before blurting out,

"If you wanted to punch me, would you?" I blinked.

"What?"

"If I did something you didn't like…you would let me know you didn't like it, right?" Hmmm. Usually, my reaction to negative stimulate was to avoid displaying a response of any kind, however, the color of Mello's face indicated concern regarding my reaction to…a different kind of attack than I was used to. Attack. Did I really view it as one? My feelings regarding it were more surprise than anything else. Did Mello feel he had sexually assaulted me? Had it been his intention to? Mello grabbed my hand and put it on his face and I lost my train of thought, because my fingers were touching his face, my pinkie brushing those scars. Feeling where the smooth skin turned slightly rough felt intimate and strange.

"My face is here, if you want to hit me." I snatched my hand back, and covered up my nervous reaction with a smirk.

"Yes, I can see that." Mello translated the not-so-hidden message in my words. His face shifted, and became more guarded. Did he really have to cover his expressions so much when he knew I could see?

"Oh." He still seemed to be waiting for something. When I moved my hand and he flinched, I understood.

"I do not intend to hit Mello." He stepped back out of my reach and didn't say anything. In the silence, he began to fidget. If it was not a big deal, as he put it, why was he acting so oddly?

"Are you and Matt arguing?" He ducked his head, hiding an expression from me.

"Kind of. He called me a pedophile."

"I do not understand."

"For kissing you."

"I still do not understand. I am only two years younger than Mello."

"Yeah, but you look about 13."

"…" How I yearned to be able to deny that fact. Time for a mind game."Is Mello a pedophile?"

"No!"

"You kissed me."

"You're legal!"

"Yes, but I look about 13." Mello favored me with a look of such disgust, I could almost feel it travel across the air and taint my skin. I decided to take pity on him. "Is the distinction caused by the difference between a physical act and actual attraction?"

"What?"

"You said it was no big deal," I reminded him, "therefore, since it meant nothing to you, and was not motivated by actual attraction, you are not a pedophile. Were you attracted to my looks after believing me to look prepubescent, it would be different."

"Holy shit. I'm a pedophile." I was not sure whether to take it as a declaration of physical attraction or a mockery of my ever-logical thought processes. Since either way, Mello would feel victorious seeing my confusion, I filed away the comment to pick apart and analyze later.

"Also, it would depend on if all of the people you were attracted to looked or were actually underage, or if that happened to be a unique characteristic of mine." I reached up to carefully separate a lock of hair from its companions while I thought. "You could create a chart, detailing the features of people you are attracted to and check for commonalities." Fascinating. I decided to make my own chart later and determine if I had a "type". Mello seemed not to appreciate my input, but I had not expected him to, so I changed subjects, finished with that train of thought for the time being.

"Who would you plan to arrest?"

"Takada Kiyomi. She has to be connected to Kira somehow. It would force him to action."

"Has it occurred to Mello that the first action Kira would take would be to kill you?"

"That is one possible outcome, but it's a risk worth taking." I did not require the usual time to go through my thought processes.

"No."

"What?"

"I will not help you with this. Ignoring the fact that I no longer have the support from law enforcement I would need to make a proper arrest, your plan is foolish and will only end in your death."

"What the hell?"

"I am putting you and your companions on house arrest. Any attempts to execute your plan will be met with the restriction of phone and internet services." Mello provided an extremely entertaining impression of a fish while I waited. Hoping to speed up the process, I tugged a piece of hair. It happened to be on Mello's head. My sudden proximity seemed to inspire coherency, and Mello finally exploded.

"You can't do that!" That was a pointless denial.

"Obviously, I can. Why are you so desperate to die?"

"I am willing to do whatever it takes!" I arranged my features into the most superior expression I could manage, knowing how to deal with angry-yet-determined Mello much better than the strange mood he was inhabiting.

"Willing to do what it takes or choosing the simplest solution? Mello does not have any goals past this. For you, I believe, dying for the key piece of evidence would be an ideal ending, martyring yourself doing something neither L nor I could do, and solving the unsolvable case. This point of view is arrogant and selfish. Would finding a solution that allowed you to move on to other things be too difficult for you, or do you only ever wish to follow L and me in a search for self-validation? Pathetic." When I had begun speaking, Mello's hand had reached out towards me, as if to stop the angry words. Halfway through, those hands balled into fists. At "Pathetic" he seemed to be making a conscious effort not to strike me.

"Well," He finally said. "I see nothing has changed." After he left, I looked at the empty doorway for a long time. I did not want Mello to die. That was normal. I did not wish anyone to die needlessly. However, I found I did not maintain my neutrality towards what he did with that life. I wanted him not to hate me. His words…they implied he thought things _had _changed. Why? Because I was helpless? Weak? Dependant? Vulnerable? What did it say about him that we could only get along when I was in that state? What did it say about me that even realizing this, I did not want that easy companionship to be lost? I was a hypocrite. Surely this made me just as pathetic as he. Perhaps I was too used to basking in solitude. I was human, and therefore must be lonely on some level, to reach out to Mello. Inconvenient, but even I could quote countless studies that linked companionship to happiness. Companionship. Mello was not consistent enough to hope for any such thing. _Perhaps_, I thought,_ I should consider a pet_.

Mello's POV

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. And he was right for calling me pathetic, because I had been foolish in the first place by deluding myself into thinking anything _could _change. _Follow L and me in a search for self-validation. _Manipulative bastard of a cotton ball. The moment he didn't rely on me to perform simple tasks, I was a parasite. _Pathetic._ He thought I was just following him around. Which I almost groaned aloud at. No, I was just a perfectly normal, completely non-obsessed guy who spent his whole life trying to best another guy and chased him halfway around the world to make him sandwiches and read him a fucking bedtime story. Shit.

This was the problem. I'd work myself up about all the things I would do to him, and then when I had the opportunity, I could never bring myself to do them. In the absence of things to do, I'd follow orders in a daze, and now I really was acting like a wife or a mother with the sandwich and bedtime stories and kiss. And the kiss! So stupid. I found myself regretting it even more now. Matt was furious at me- mostly because he thought I'd lied about sleeping with Near- and Near thought I was some soulless follower who trailed along behind him and kissed him to kill time.

And when I'd made the worlds shittiest half-confession of "Holy shit. I'm a pedophile.", he'd gone on about graphs because he, at least, knew there could never be a chance that for us to get along. Even if it felt so easy to slip into a pattern of taking care of him. I really was obsessed with taking the easy way out. I'd hated him for so long, and one instance of being forced to put all that aside to take care of him as if we were just two human beings who needed help was easier than what we would need if we were to continue being civil; dealing with all the hate. Which was never going to happen. Because he was too much of a bastard. And I was too stubborn. Even recognizing my stubbornness, I couldn't let it go.

I needed to talk to Matt. But what would I even say? I knew he was a bastard_, I knew it_, and still I couldn't bring myself to betray his trust and tell Matt his secret. Which left me with the oh-so-eloquent explanation of "Oh, hey, Matty. No, please don't punch me in the face, you see, I only kissed the boy I hate because I don't actually hate him and in fact we were almost friends until that kiss, but don't worry because it won't ever happen again and the most that'll ever happen is me feeding him and reading him stories and maybe sleeping with him sometimes. But I don't like him like him, or even particularly like him…" It was the perfect summary, unless, of course, I wanted to sound even mildly intelligent.

My life is about control. I do what I want. Which is great, mostly, except it left me with no one to blame but myself. Beyond explaining to Matt, I really didn't know what I was doing. Which meant I was probably wrapped against an ivory white finger somehow.

Dammit.

Matt's POV

"Matty?" I groaned and rolled over. Mello was standing over the bed, looking pitiful. What was he- "Don't be mad…" Oh yeah. I was mad. I would try for furious, but I was really too tired.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know why you're so angry, but I don't want you to be. Jeez, Matt. I know it looked bad, but its really not like that, and what did happen will never ever happen again." I was too naturally easygoing to summon up true fire at this time of night. Mello probably knew it too, the bastard.

"What was it then?" He rubbed his face.

"Stupid. I just wanted to get a response and we all make mistakes, right?" I remembered kissing him, and blushed. I didn't want to dictate who Mello saw, and honestly, I didn't care, beyond the realization that someday I would need to welcome someone into our fold, but it couldn't be _Near_! I didn't really care either way about him, but if Mello spent that long leading me into battle against him, and it turned out he was…friggin crushing over him like a middle school girl, then...

"Mello, I know you more than anything else." He opened his mouth, probably to make some smartass comment about how that boded ill for my computer skills. "This makes me feel like I don't know you at all." His face changed, understanding.

"Shit, Matty." I really didn't want to hear his self justifications. Already, my eyelids were drooping back down and wisps of my dream were tugging me back into unconsciousness.

"S'fine. Damage is done, now we'll deal with it. We always do." Somehow I found the strength to roll over, freeing up his half of the bed. "Anyways, you need my support now, more than I need to yell at you." I saw surprise light up his face and he looked at me strangely enough that I evaded sleep for a little longer and waited for some explanation.

"Oh, you mean for the investigation."

"Yeah…" What else did he need support for? I fought the uneasy sensation that I was yet again being shut out of some aspect of his life, and tried not to worry until I finally fell asleep, and then I didn't have to worry about anything at all…

I dreamed I was walking next to Mello through a snowstorm. Suddenly, Near was there too. He tugged at Mello's hand, and they walked slightly faster, eventually disappearing from my sight. And then I was all alone in the snow, scared to call out Mello's name, not because I didn't think he'd hear me, but because I was worried he'd hear me and not come anyways.

When I woke up, Mello's side of the bed was empty. I shook away the last remnants of my dream, which disturbed me more than it should have. It didn't take a genius to figure out the symbolism there. Suddenly, the door opened, and I jumped. Mello had stepped in with two cups of coffee.

"Thought you'd need this. You seemed a little disturbed in your sleep, so I made coffee, and figured I'd wake you up when I got back." I smiled and tried to push away my unease. That day might come, but it wasn't today. And it wouldn't be with Near anyways. I mean, come on. Near? Whatever I'd seen, there was more to it. Mello wouldn't.

Because it would never work.

**A/N: Can anyone think of an anime that centers around a character who oozes sheer badassery from every pore? Someone like James Bond, or Sebastian Michaelis. Also, what do you call fluffy smut? Flut? Smuff?**


	10. Coconuts

Mello's POV

I've heard the phrase "Its lonely at the top", and that might be true, but that opens up a shit-ton of other metaphorical meanings. Like the idea that the proverbial top is lonely suggests a pyramidical shape in which each layer supports a smaller higher layer. And, like a mountain, pyramid, upside-down ice cream cone, or any other big-at-the-base small-at-the-tip proverbial fodder, it's _precarious_ at the top. Which is why instead of unleashing a magnificent display of misdirected fury on my unsuspecting team, I was forced to pout in silence so as not to stir up new trouble with Matty. So I sat on my couch and sprawled out in my thinking position and tried to look productive while the pile of chocolate wrappers beside me grew and grew.

"Mello, are-" Donsen began. He thought like an explosives user, always blurting out the first thing that came to mind. I wholeheartedly approved when the much more subtle Nevelli interrupted him.

"The boss is planning something. Let him think." Donsen may have gone on, but the look I sent him was…discouraging. I knew I looked a little unhinged with that look. Good. Let them believe I ran naked through the streets at night, eating children's hearts. Peering at my face, Donsen nodded and leaned back. Ah, yes, I was supposed to be planning something. In any other place, I would declare this day a loss and go brood in my room, but that bastard had cameras everywhere, and now he could _see_, so of course, I had to at least _look_ like I was occupying my mind for the appropriate number of hours.

My serious face intensified, as though I had reached some conclusion, and I settled for looking brilliant while inside, I repeated the words bored bored bored two hundred times. Then chocolate. Then Mattyisanass, which I only got to 43 on before I felt guilty, because he really wasn't trying to be one. Lazily, I stretched out one leg and then unwrapped another chocolate bar, deliberately separating the movements so I could kill time. I peeled off the paper. Then the foil. I observed the newly exposed chocolate. Lick. The careful positioning of teeth. Snap. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Dammit, I was back at the beginning. This time, I mentally recited all the curse words I knew. Practice makes perfect. Even that ended too quickly. Hmmm. I considered looking to other cultures to expand my repertoire. Fucking this and bastard that, it was positively redundant. Other students had sometimes used "bloody," and I reconsidered it, but it still didn't quite fit…in any other country, bloody was a quaint term at best, an irreverent uttering at worst. I needed universal terms, for perfect clarity when I needed to convey disappointment to the members of the masses I would someday rule, since my empire would undoubtedly span several cultures and languages. I started mentally designing the outfit I would wear as Mello: The Great and Terrible Ruler of All, but stopped myself quickly. I wasn't a Disney villain; I would strike fear into hearts by my mere presence, not with anything so tacky as a cape. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Ugh. I started singing songs in my head.

_I've got a luvuhly bunch of coconuts, dah duh dah duh, there they are all standing in a roooow…_

The door opened. It was Near. Of course.

"Are you busy?" I didn't look up, and made a show of looking as relaxed and unoccupied as possible.

"Extremely. Go away."

"Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head?" I couldn't help myself. I stared. Fuck. The sheep had found out how to read minds, and now he was going through my thoughts like I went through chocolate. What didn't I want him to know? Fuuuck, now I was thinking all the things I didn't want him to see me thinking. I pictured a brick wall in my head and wrote GO AWAY NEAR on it. "Ah, did I guess correctly? You appeared too serene to be thinking and out of the songs you generally hum, the beat of that one matched the tapping of your pinkie."

Oh.

"Go away." I repeated, trying not to look too relieved, and apparently failing, since his answer was

"Do not worry, Mello, I cannot read your mind. I simply know you very well." Again, I cursed my over-expressive face as the corner of his mouth quirked downward and he asked, "Is that worse?" Leaving me no time to answer, he began walking out and called back over his shoulder, "When Mello is finished counting coconuts, he may join us upstairs. I have decided to adapt Mello's kidnapping scheme such that your entire team does not put their lives at risk."

When the door closed, I turned to see Matt with his arms crossed and a furious expression.

"Were you just humming in your head that entire time?" I couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Jesus, Matt, if I wanted a wife, I woulda picked someone who could cook for shit."

"Dammit, Mell, we came all the way out here so you could fuss about beating Near and you're too busy making goo-goo eyes to even try!"

"I was _not _making goo-goo eyes."

"Right. Well, are we going upstairs, or would you like to wallow in your stupid pride some more?"

"Fine, we'll go talk to the sheep."

"So you admit you're wallowing?"

"…"

"Please understand," Near began, "that I remain wary of this method because it permits Mello an excessive level of proximity to our suspects. I have purchased this," he held up a taser, "and if you deviate from the plan, I will not hesitate to shoot you. If you show any signs of being under Kira's control, I will not hesitate to shoot you. If you attempt to run away and execute your own plan, I-"

"-Will not hesitate to shoot me. Yeah, I got it. So what is this brilliant plan of yours?"

"We kidnap Takada, forcing Yagami into action."

"…"

"Mello?"

"…"

"Matt, why does Mello not speak?"

"I think he's upset because-"

"THAT WAS OUR FUCKING PLAN IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"Thank you, Matt. I withdraw my question; he has spoken."

"WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET OFF ACTING LIKE YOU HAVE SOME KICKASS PLAN WHEN IT'S THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING WE THOUGHT OF? YOU DIDN'T USE DIFFERENT WORDS TO MAKE IT SOUND SMART, IT'S THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING!"

"Ah, so Mello has noticed…" I gritted my teeth and tried to force out a coherent sentence between the almost painful urge to wrap my hands around his pasty undersized neck.

"…yes…I….noticed…"

"Mello is incorrect!" He declared, with barely disguised glee. He smirked. My fingers twitched. I didn't have to kill him, I could just change that smug expression to panic, and then I'd let go. "The plan is not the same because the situation has changed. Please direct your attention to the screen." Everyone else directed their attention to the screen. I re-recited my curse words, this time finding new ways to arrange them and specify Near as their target. "The highlighted times are situations in which Kira acted on information it would have been impossible for either Yagami or Takada to access." I flicked my eyes to the screen.

"So there's a third Kira. This is good. S'not new information, though. Why didn't you figure this out before?" I knew why. He knew I knew why. Victory is my primary source of warm fuzzies. I grinned. He sniffed nonchalantly and turned back.

"I merely needed to revisit the information. It is fortunate we are not all as hasty as Mello." Warm fuzzies gone.

"Near, you are blind…" he stiffened, "…to the obvious. I didn't expect this from you." I smiled sweetly. "So how does this change anything?"

"It has become imperative that we catch the third Kira. Capturing Takada and isolating Yagami simultaneously would force one of them to reveal the identity of Kira number 3."

"So now my life is worth risking?"

"This is why I shared my new information with you. I require Matt to set up appropriate surveillance and Mello and I will remain near enough to Yagami for any necessary action that needs to be taken. We will, of course, go with a team. Yours seems suited for this type of mission."

"You want my team?"

"I will pay if we are successful. If not, I suspect we will all die anyways. Do not feel obligated to agree. I suspect I could assemble an equally qualified team in a week."

"Fine. But you gotta let me set things up." Even if Near got the credit, it would go to L, and that was alright. What mattered was for him to know that I had put together everything that led to Kira's capture. It was my plan in the first fucking place anyways.

"That does seem most efficient. You are most used to handling your team." Matt rolled his eyes.

"If you're done playing stupid mind games with each other, we really do need to get going on the whole catching a mass murderer thing?"

"Of course." He flicked his hand to dismiss us, and I almost commented on the gesture, but Matty was getting the narrow-eyed look again, and I couldn't push him so soon after a fight.

On the way back, Matt said over his shoulder,

"You two need some couples counseling." I gaped.

"We're not a couple!"

"mmm." I wanted more agreement than that noncommittal noise, but we were back in our room by then and I needed to brief the team.

"We're going on a mission."

"_Eccellente! _It has been, how do you say? _Troppo a lungo_…" Nevelli was already cleaning her guns.

"This one is different. If it goes wrong, we could all die."

"That is not so different then, eh? If it goes good, we still get the money, _si_?"

"Yeah."

"Is same…_Andiamo!_" Jensen, a man of few words, surprised us all with a quick nod, and a rare display of trust in his slow, deep voice.

"I agree. We have not been led wrong yet." I considered mentioning how I couldn't be perfect because even if I hadn't led him wrong, our combat guy before him hadn't ended well. Or the one before him. But now wasn't really the time to bring people down, so I just told them the plan. And it really was just as simple as it sounded. Stupid sheep.

"N, I presume?"

"Of course. You still claim you are helping capture Kira?"

"I am doing my best."

"Excellent. Then you will not mind assisting us in a brief mission?"

"Mission doing what?"

"I thought you wanted to help?"

"…of course. Yes, of course I will do anything I can."

"Excellent. We will send you an address. Be there within an hour of receiving it."

"I-" I reached over and hung up on him.

"Near, you set up the rooms?"

"Of course."

"Then let's go."

Our trap was set in a small hotel that we had rented out and gutted. Only two rooms and the lobby were still functional, and they had been systematically relieved of any dangerous objects. Next to each of these rooms was a tech room. Matt monitored the smaller of the two rooms with Nevelli and Jensen, and Donello posed as the clerk, since explosives would be near useless in such close quarters. Near worked the larger of the two tech rooms, and I was his sole bodyguard…because I was handcuffed to him. We were attached by a six foot plastic chain which he had cheerfully explained would "not pass the shock on to me if the need arises to tase Mello." Cute, right? Pulling at my wrist, I dragged Near to find Matt.

"Do it now."

"I suppose I'll just email him, shall I?" Matt and I both smirked.

"Crash every server connected to him, and give him a virus he'll never be able to coerce into doing anything but repeating the address of this place." Matt typed for about thirty seconds before saying,

"Done!"

"That was even fast for you, Matty."

"Had a feeling you'd say something like that."

"I'm going back with the sheep to wait."

"I'll be watching over you." Matt said with fake solemnity.

"My guardian angel." I fluttered my eyelashes and clasped my hands together. On my way out, I blew Nevelli and Jensen each kisses, watching Nevelli pretend to catch it, and Jensen shiver as though bisexuality was something that may rub off on him. Near yanked me off balance in his rush to get out of the room.

"Do you have to be so uptight? Enjoy the adrenaline. We're on a mission. We're on a hunt."

"Mello may be hunting. I am performing a highly illegal citizen's arrest."

"You're too civilized for your own good."

"You have no restraint."

"You should try it some time!" I finished on an almost singsongy note and grinned at the dirty wall. I felt giddy with the thrill of being on another mission. We might die today. This is how it was supposed to be. Not the dying part, but the way each breath was seized and conquered by my lungs with the possibility it may be my last.


	11. Matt Is God

_**A/N: Now, for the long awaited Kira scene!**_

_**But first…**_

_**I've gotten several messages/reviews regarding Near using sign language. Basically what he and Mello are doing is putting their hands loosely around the other person's hand while they sign letters and such. It's a difficult method to use, since you can't see what you're doing, but in 7th grade, there was a blind student and a deaf student who would talk under the table like this like how the rest of us were passing notes, and if they could figure it out, supergenius Near and Mello can too. I chose this method because it shows Mello and Near's skills off, it would be difficult to pass Braille notes under Matty's nose, and there's the cuteness factor of the two of them handholding under the desk. If it bothers you, however, or you just can't envision it working like that, by all means, just insert the words "passed braille notes saying" whenever it says "signed". It doesn't affect the plot one whit. Hope that clears things up. Now enjoy…**_

When Light arrived, Near produced two ridiculous hand-painted masks. Each had half of L's face and the other half was white for him and black for me. Honestly, Near's theatrical side was almost as intense as mine, only I had much more panache, and much less phantom-of-the-opera. We walked into his room, and when he saw the chain connecting us he started laughing so hard he looked completely unhinged.

"I…I guess you really were…haha…meant to be L…hahaha." It wasn't that funny. "Allow me to guess, it's starting to scratch?" Neither of us answered, but he tugged back an immaculately white cuff to display a scar that ran in an almost perfect circle around his wrist. "Try it for 5 months." He regained his composure while he fixed his sleeve. "I suppose it isn't that funny, yet the similarities…" he shook his head, disbelievingly. "And the masks? Hmmm, most likely symbolic. Aren't we clever?" I sympathized slightly. It was hard to hide one's disgust with Near for long. "Although _you_might just be hiding some scars?" What little sympathy I'd had vanished. We needed to shoot him. _Now_. "You bastard. You killed my father, you know? I hope you're ugly under there. You deserve it." To say such things in such a pleasant, conversational tone, Light looked like he was on the edge. He would have snapped soon, even if we hadn't planned this. His face stretched out into a cordial but stiff smile that looked like it had been practiced many many times in preparation. His perfect suit contrasted with his hair, which was starting to separate from his scalp like hackles rising on a dog and falling into his face, which he had tilted downwards, making the lighting react oddly with his eyes, turning them almost red. "So," Even more worrying than the ominous appearance was its sudden disappearance; he slipped into such a welcoming and helpful persona it was difficult to connect him to the insane looking person of a moment ago. His act was flawless. "how can I help you?"

"We have a suspect."

"Oh? Another interrogation, then? I can't say I approve of your methods." Now he looked fatherly and reproving, filled with authority which gently disagreed with our actions.

"No. We would like you to call Kiyomi Takada. Invite her here."

"She's his spokesperson. He wouldn't choose anyone so obvious."

"Is that a confession?"

"Of course not. I'll call, I just don't see anything coming of all this secrecy." He grimaced. "Or the damage on my computers."

Takada arrived in her room faster than Yagami had.

"Go in and confess to being Kira. Based on her response, we can check both of your reactions."

"You really are just like L. I won't do that. It's wrong to trick her." Near nodded in agreement.

"As expected, your morals are strong but misguided. Then you wish only to be fair to her?"

"Of course."

"Unfortunately, I do not share that wish. In university, she cheated once on an exam. I have created a

virtual persona in their files who was expelled for cheating. If you do not enter that room and confess, I will sue until her degree is revoked."

"They can't do that!"

"I can do anything. I have found bribery to be an extremely efficient method of coercing the law."

"That's…illegal."

"As is mass murder. It is within your abilities to prevent both." The red look reappeared as he gritted his teeth and applied a new mask of righteous fury to his face.

"Fine."

Takada entered her room and sat down on the bed, arranging her hands in her lap before staring blankly off into space. It was very different from her television appearances; she seemed almost like a wind-up doll that needed to be rewound. She must have been brilliant of her own volition once; her school records spoke to themselves. Who had conditioned her so thoroughly? God- the real one- answered my question with the entrance of Light into the room.

"Kiyomi, you look-"

"Any comments regarding her appearance or that are not strictly necessary will be regarded as code and we will arrest you both." Near interrupted into his headpiece. He tilted his head slightly into the earpiece and his eyes went distant as though he were listening to something, trying to give Takada a hint that all was not well, but she kept gazing at the wall, and her fingers only moved slightly in her lap. "If you insist on being so obvious, make the confession now."

"Kiyomi Takada, I am Kira." Now Takada came to life, turning to Light with pathetic adoration in her face.

"God?"

"Allude to having spoken before."

"We've spoken before."

"Yes, God, I did everything you said. I did everything you said and the people love you. They understand your mission, our mission." She wriggled in delight. "Soon everyone will see!"

"Thank you, Yagami. We have our confession. You may return." Light scowled at her and stalked out without saying anything. As he walked back into his room, where we both waited, Near removed his headset and turned to face him. Light took a breath and then broke into a wide smile, only a little manic on the edges, and waved his hands slightly in enthusiasm.

"We did it! We caught someone Kira has made contact with! Now if we go through her communication records-"

"There will be no further need for your assistance. We appreciate your help, and apologize that it was not safe to trust you before." Near took off his mask. I removed mine. He sneered at my ruined face, but turning to Near, all expression dropped off and he reached out towards his face.

"…L…"

"Please do not touch me." He snatched his hand back and looked at it like a disobedient dog.

"Not L. Sorry, you just…look like him."

This false display of trust was a little ridiculous, but we had to goad him into action somehow. A voice crackled on over the headset.

"Melly, there's something in the corner. I have the whole room covered, but it's too dark for me to tell what it is." My eyes instantly flicked towards the corner, where I didn't see anything at first, but then the movement caught my attention. A tiny cell phone hovered from the darkest place in the room.

"N, the shinigami has graced us with his presence." Discovered, the phone floated out of the shadows and towards us. Near jumped in surprise, and he started twisting his hair in agitation. When the book brushed my arm, I was prepared. I was less prepared for the red eyeballs that appeared less than an inch from my face.

"Hyuk hyuk. I'm Ryuk. Didn't think you'd catch me so fast. He warned me you might."

"Who is 'he'?" His head stayed in the same place while his body rose higher, giving him the appearance of lying on his belly in the middle of the air. Suddenly, he whipped out a pale, bony hand covered in gothic silver bracelets and rings and covered his lips with a finger.

"Secrets, secrets. Hyuk hyuk hyuk. Figure it out."

"Who are you speaking to?"

"The shinigami has made itself visible to M and me. We have both been touched by the Death Note."

"Can I-…?" Light walked off in the wrong damn direction, fingers extended in hopes of contact. It was obviously an act, but what mattered was it wasn't a confession.

"Love apples." Light and I both stared at Near. "Do you love apples, Ryuk?"

"Hyuk hyuk. I like this one. Whydja ask? Huh?"

"Was I misinformed? I heard Shinigami love apples."

"Never had one." He stared hard at Light. Probably reminding him of some promise he'd made in

exchange for his cooperation.

"Try one." Near produced an apple from God knows where- his pajamas definitely didn't have pockets- and tossed it to the Shinigami, giving him the option to catch it or let it splatter against the wall. He ate it, stem and all in five bites. After thoroughly licking his fingers, he shrugged.

"S'okay."

"Just okay? Its not a normal apple, you know."

"Juicy…"

"Yes. Would you like to know what I did to it?" He nodded, looking entranced.

"They're special, genetically altered apples, for maximum size and juicyness, with just a little strain of pear in them to improve flavor. I purchased an orchard of them yesterday." He licked his lips.

"A- a whole orchard?"

"Yes. I thought you might want some. But since I was mistaken, and you do not love apples, I will simply sell it, and try to earn a profit."

"If you went to all that trouble, I'll eat 'em. Where's the orchard?"

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Where is it? Gimme, gimme." He rolled in the air.

"Who is Kira?"

"Clever human. You remind me of that other one. Bony with black fur."

"Who is Kira?"

"Secrets, secrets. There's rules, ya know? Hey, hows about I give you a little hint, though. Did you know drawings don't work?"

"Don't work how?"

"You can't see the name of someone in a drawing, unless they're very very good. That little girl Linda, she's good, but not very very good, capiche? Or it's been a while since she saw you. Those are new."He touched my scars, and his skin looked so much like a dead thing I was glad I couldn't feel his touch.

"You are not willing to tell us who Kira is?"

"Told you I can't. I helped though, so gimme the apples." I crossed my arms, giving the signal that Light looked nowhere near giving himself away, and we needed to push him further.

"I'll give you the apples…if you kill Light Yagami." Well, that would certainly push him further.

"What?"

"Write his name in your Death Note."

"How big is the orchard?"

"20 acres. And I can buy more."

"Hmmmm…as many as I want?"

"Yes." He rolled and squirmed in the air.

"That'll be boring after a couple of years…"

"I am currently acting as the detective L. You may follow along in my cases if you grow bored."

"It woulda happened eventually anyways. Nothing personal, Light-o." He pulled out a notebook. Light's

blank look dissolved into panic.

"What are you doing? You can't have him kill me, I'm innocent! Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!" He snatched

the notebook from the shinigami's hand, flipped it open, and started writing.

He knows my name.

I'm first.

I'm going to die.

Near produced a gun and shot him in the shoulder.

We all stared at each other for what could only have been a second, but felt like much longer. Light swayed. I waited for him to fall, but he touched the bullet hole with a finger from his other hand and looked at the blood in surprise. Then he started writing again.

Near shot him in the other shoulder.

We all stared at each other again, and this time Light fell. On the ground, he started laughing maniacally.

"I can still kill you, or save your life. You only have to give up." I jumped forward, snatching the Death Note.

"Idiot. What are you talking about? You're on the floor, probably bleeding to death." He laughed, coughing blood out on to the floor until he had to stop. Each tooth was coated in red and the lines between them were almost black. Still, he smiled.

"Yes, but I know something you don't know."

"What is that?"

"It's so obvious."

"Your third associate? We have already apprehended him." It took great effort for him to move, but still, he moved his hand enough to shake a finger at us reprovingly. What the hell?

"Liar, liar. So what can a man do with only a drawing which, as you heard, was useless? Unless he had a name…like Mihael Keehl."

"I do not-"

"Near, the phone. We've been on the phone this whole time."

"With Matt and the others? I still do not understand."

"No, Near, we caught the Shinigami because he had brought in a phone. A phone. He wasn't taking a picture, he was making a call."

"That is not-"

"Idiot, I'm dying." And then, because I didn't have anything left to lose, I said, "I'm sorry. It was a big deal." And then I kissed Near, and I really didn't care if he enjoyed it or not because I had maybe fifteen seconds left to live and _I_ wanted to spend it in his mouth. I barely registered him dropping the gun. He tasted so good. I ignored Light's pathetic shuffling on the ground. Better than chocolate maybe. The headset crackled, like Matt had knocked over his microphone in a rush to get out of his room and I sent a mental farewell to him.

It turned out I was leaving behind a lot. Chocolate, and a Family and a family and Matty and this comfortable feeling of just kissing Near, like my world wasn't ending. There were tears, I couldn't tell whose, but they stuck us together a little more and I approved. How many seconds left of this would I get?

"MELLO, THE GUN!" I pulled away from Near to look at Matt in the doorway, which I instantly regretted because I didn't have time to waste. Then his words registered, and I looked down at the gun, which had managed to point itself at us. No, Light had dragged himself over to grab it, and in my rush to grab the notebook, I'd forgotten there was more than one way to kill. I was already doomed. So the barrel aiming at Near didn't surprise me.

And then his hand tightened.

No.

I pushed Near, and for a moment I wondered what would happen if I died all by myself at the same time I was supposed to die in the Death Note. Then I had a brief flash of horror as I hoped desperately that this wasn't the actual death written for me, and I was playing into some nefarious plan. And then the bullet hit, and though I struggled manfully to achieve some profound last thought, I was thinking something like …

I fell down and watched boots clomp into the room.

I heard a gunshot and watched Light's head explode. Nevelli's boots then.

White tennis shoes, and I struggled to turn so I could see something higher. The edges of my vision were fading.

Almost all black, with Near in the center, and he was so damn bright, he actually did look like a goddamn light at the end of a tunnel. I opened my mouth to tell him, and more blood came out instead.

"shhh, Mello, do not move." Near warned me, as he faded into a white smear.

And then even that was gone.*

When I woke up again, everything was completely black. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't move. When I reached up my hands to check if they were already open, they wouldn't move either. I had a distinct feeling of still possessing a body though, and wondered if I was in purgatory, since it wasn't moving.

"Hello?" Something shifted around me, as if the world tilted. I felt displacement, but it was weird since I didn't know where I had started out.

"Mello?" Weird.

"God? Uh, sir? I know it shouldn't matter, but can you please make my head stop hurting?" Very, very privately, I disapproved of the kinks in the dying system that made it so I couldn't move, but I could still feel the pain.

"Mello!" I heard some clicks then and some beeps in the background. My arm felt cold, and then some of the pain did start fading away. So did my consciousness. As I fell back asleep, I mumbled

"You know God, you kind of sound like Matty."

When I woke up again, it was still dark, and I was stiff, but I felt a lot better. Better enough to register the itch on my left foot. Experimentally, I tried to move, and found my arms completely mobile. I pushed myself into a sitting position so I could reach, but as soon as I sat up, nausea, vertigo and a horrible pain in my chest assaulted me.

"Fuuuck." An amused voice answered me.

"Melly, God wouldn't like that kind of language."

"If I was in heaven it wouldn't hurt so much. If I was in hell, it wouldn't matter. Anyways, I didn't see you on death's door, and it smells like disinfectant, so I'm guessing hospital?"

"Excellent detective work. The title of L is unworthy of you." I wrinkled my nose.

"Why's the sheep here?"

"You kind of spent your last moments kissing him then took a bullet for him."

"Did I get my eyes gouged out somewhere in all of that?"

"What?"

"Then what the fuck's wrong with my eyesight?"

"We just had to keep it dark so you could sleep."

"Well, I'm done sleeping, so turn on the lights." A cool hand fumbled clumsily around my head and pulled away some sort of cloth. I could see a little through my eyelids, but they wouldn't open. "My eyes still won't open."

"Ewww, Melly, they crusted shut." Matt dabbed at my eyes with a wet cloth until I could finally pull my eyelids apart, letting in a few eyelashes and some painfully bright light. The first thing I saw was Matt.

"You look like shit." He did. His eyes were puffy and red like he'd been crying, he smelled like he'd been chainsmoking and his clothes were rumpled and dirty. Then I saw Near. "You look like shit too." He did. _His _eyes didn't look like they'd squeezed out a single drop for me, but I'd have bet ownership of Godiva that he hadn't slept since I'd gotten here. "Really, the L look doesn't do it for you." Finally, I caught sight of myself in a mirror attached to a dresser across from my bed. "Oh." I said, and my voice came out hoarse. "I look worse than both of you." Besides the scarring, which I'd almost gotten used to, I had a huge scrape on the other side of my face, my eyes looked set back in my face, I had wires coming from my arms and a tube in my nose, a bandage around my head that made me look like a war refugee costume, bandaging around my chest and left shoulder and my hair was a tangled mess. At least I was clean. "So I'm alive?"

"Yeah," Matt answered, "but you can keep calling me God if you want."

"How?"

"Just open up your mouth and say it. God. One easy syllable."

"How'm I alive, moron."

"Touchy." I glared. "You sir, evaded death not once, not twice, but four times!"

"Feels like it."

"Need more morphine?"

"No, just tell me what happened." He held up a finger.

"First, Yagami got shot only three letters from finishing your name. He wrote another two letters in blood before Near shot him again." The second finger went up. "Second, Kira number 3 misspelled your name a bunch of times before he died of- get this- a heart attack. Turns out trying to save your god will work you up into a frenzy, and he overdid it on coffee. Real workaholic, his cats ate most of him before he even got cold." Good. The third finger went up. "Then, you took a bullet for snowflake here, which would probably have killed you, except some of us are apparently into men's jewelry-"

"My rosary?" I asked, reaching up to notice its absence for the first time.

"Yeah. It went through, obviously, but it slowed it down enough it didn't blend your guts, so much as blend your left lung, and it threw it off course so it was your lung that got blended instead of your heart. You're minus about half a lung now, by the way, so don't take up smoking."

"That's all I remember, did something else get me while I was out? You said four times."

"Then you fell down and bumped your head."

"That's it?"

"You bumped it really hard. You got a massive concussion and you've been out a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" I frowned. "Why aren't I hungry?"

"They fed you through a tube."

"Don't tell me…"

"A nasogastric tube."

"I'VE BEEN EATING THROUGH MY NOSE?"

"Yeah." He grinned at me, then suddenly, all the humor went out of his face. "Don't do that again, okay? We were really scared for you."

"No, I take bullets for sheep for fun. Of course I won't do it again. So Near, next time, if I have time to take a bullet for you, you have time to move."

"If Mello recalls, I was distracted." Oh yeah. I'd sort of…jumped him.

"Sorry about that. I thought I was going to die."

"I believed so also. I am glad Mello is not dead. I see you are alright, so I will go." He got up to leave and I didn't stop him, so he didn't stop. Matt looked at me carefully.

"You sure you want him to go?"

"Matt, that's not what's important here. I need you to swear something to me."

"What is it?"

"If this ever happens again…" Matt leaned towards me to catch my words. "Can you pour some Hershey's syrup into my feeding tube?"

"Mello!"

"Don't punch me in the arm, I just got shot!"

_**A/N: Wow, so two updates in one day! That's kind of an apology for vanishing for so long. I've actually written a bunch of chapters for all my fics, I just need to type them up now that I have a computer. I'm updating The Lion and The Shark next. So…**_

_**Can anyone guess what happened to Mikami? Besides Karma…**_

_**About the other stuff, like the specifics of Near & Mello's plan, there will be more explanation later.**_

_***This is where I would have ended things if I was anyone else. Repay me for my non-cliffie with reviews.**_

_**BTW, this means there WILL be more mafia, and less Kira, so if you don't like it, that's your own fault for not voting. As you'll notice with the whole Mello living thing, I do take your opinions into consideration, but if you don't share, I can't help you.**_


	12. Mello The Ambassador

Near's POV

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir."

"When did he leave?"

"He checked himself out of the hospital this morning."

"His file specifically stated that he was not permitted to check himself out."

"It seems the file changed, sir."

"I did not give permission for the file to be changed."

"It was hacked, sir."

"Matt."

"Most likely." I waved him away in annoyance. Clearly I was correct, and unlike Mello, I did not seek constant confirmation of the rightness of my actions and thoughts. It was pointless to view Mello's early escape as a positive or a negative, it simply _was_, and since there was no longer any chance he was being controlled by Kira, I would not sit and wallow in the futility of searching for him. L would not sit and wallow in the futility of searching. I had a duty to my title. So after exactly 60 seconds that I calculated I could lose, I shook off thoughts of Mello and Matt and began to file my Kira report.

Matt's POV

"Where to?"

"Mello?"

"What?"

"Where are we going?"

"Airport."

"To the airport, please."

"Alright. Is your friend alright, he looks kind of rough…" Mello hissed at the man, and reached for his waist, undoubtedly for a gun, but as soon as his arm moved, he hissed again in pain and settled for a death glare. Jensen edged closer to the window, trying to give Mello space.

"I am completely fine. Does something look wrong with me?" The man's eyes slid over Mello's burned face…bandaged arms, sling and various bruises.

"No, sir." He started driving.

"Mels, where're we going?"

"Airport. Pay attention, Matty."

"Thanks, Mello. I meant where're we flying from there?"

"Back."

"Ah, it will be good to feel the air of _Italia_, no?" Nevelli clapped her hands together.

"_Siete in grado di viaggiare_?" Jensen asked, looking Mello over.

"_Io sto bene_!"

"_Scusa, signore_." Even as he apologized, he looked at me as if to urge me to speak some sense into Mello. I met his eyes until he looked down, probably thinking I was admonishing him for daring to question Mello. In truth, he was right. Mello shouldn't've been trying to travel in his condition, but he's tough, and I was more worried what else he might hurt with his weird little Near thing. My fingers twitched for something to do, but I just drummed them against my leg so I could keep an eye on Mels. He sunk back into his coat, as if he had gotten a head rush or something, and I frowned. Pitre was gonna love this. Mello had better have a good explanation. I considered coming up with our cover story, but stopped myself. Near or no, Mello was still Mello. Of course he had a good explanation. I'd probably hear it by tomorrow, and be in awe of its brilliance. Mello was why I never felt bad being third. If I applied myself, I could be second or first, but would numbers and scores really make me better? I didn't lose to make Mello feel better, either, because he wouldn't appreciate that. I honestly believe he deserves second, or even first. He just has an incredible level of deviousness that I don't have at all. Hacking is about forcing your way in or slipping in unnoticed. Mello can walk up to someone and hack their opinions of him. He can make a plan that looks like he's absolutely fucking crazy until a checkmate emerges from the ruins. I still don't know if he blew up half his face on purpose. I'm scared to ask. Actually, he _might_ be absolutely fucking crazy, but it's winning that counts in the end. Mello is a born winner. He closed his eyes and his body completely relaxed. I actually did a double take. Mello was sleeping? In a taxi? Mello, the king of paranoid, and rightfully so, considering the number of enemies he had, was sleeping in a taxi, when I'd never even known him to sleep in front of anyone except me. And Near, apparently.

"Mello?" Instead of opening right away, his face scrunched up, and he turned his head away from the noise, until he almost touched Jensen and his eyes snapped open, after his nostrils flared, identifying a foreign scent.

"Whoa. Sorry, didn't mean to sleep." He looked furious he had slept at all.

"You can go back to sleep if you want." Now he looked furious at me.

"No, s'alright. I'm fine."

"Sei stato sparati. Lascia mi auitarti. Per favore." Even as he listened, his glare softened as he fought off sleep and a yawn.

"Hai una pistola?"

"Si."

"Bene." He said, and slipped back into sleep. My fingers tapped a little faster on my leg. Mello must be in rough shape to allow this. The first time he had accidentally fallen asleep, but he actually made a decision to succumb to what must be incredible exhaustion, knowing where he was. Nevelli frowned as well.

"Will Signore be alright? He is seeming different." Her forehead crinkled in worry.

"Gli hanno sparato!" Why did no one understand that Mello had been shot! Shot! As omnipotent as he liked to think he was, no one takes a bullet and skips away. I resolved never to be convinced into arranging an early release for Mello again. We could've found another way to avoid the sheep.

The sheep. Near. Near who we tortured for years. Near whose treatment as an enemy was the one condition of Mello's friendship. Near who I never hated, but disliked on principle. Near whose name Mello sometimes whispered in his sleep. Near who I caught Mello in bed with. Near who Mello kissed when he thought he only had forty seconds left to live.

"Si, signore. What…" I turned to Nevelli who had interrupted my thoughts again, and wondered why she was still talking. When I saw her face, I suppressed some of my irritation. She chewed her lip, and seemed distressed by what she was about to ask. "What do we tell Signore Pitre?" Donello and Jensen both gasped a little. By asking, Nevelli was openly declaring her loyalty to Mello above Pitre, and basically asking for the cover-up story so she could support whatever lies we told.

"Yes, we will need to coordinate so we do not disagree with each other." Jensen finally agreed, surprising us all. Nevelli turned to Donello.

"We cannot say what has happened and expect them to believe."

"Bene. Tell me the story and I will agree with it."

"Thanks." I told them, sincerely. I really was grateful. I suspected Mello's old plan involved their unfortunate deaths at the hands of whatever Big Bad Villain Mello thought up. Now he could plan something that didn't make us, you know, traitorous scumbags. I became aware that they were all staring at me as if they were waiting for something. "What is it?"

"Are you going to tell us the story we will be passing on to Pitre?"

"Uh, yeah, well," I scratched the back of my head and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I don't know it. Mello's in charge of that stuff. I'm just the techie."

"Damn straight." Muttered a still mostly asleep Mello. I made a valiant effort not to laugh at him. Having a gun pulled out and pointed at one of his passengers would most likely unsettle the cabby, and if Mels got in a car crash, we would have to explain away _five_ near death experiences worth of injuries. We rode in silence for almost an hour before Mello woke up really. The first thing he did was look at me and wave imperiously towards the sliding glass between us and our driver. I closed it.

"I am an orphan. So is Matt. We grew up in a small orphanage for gifted children called The House. While we were there, a teacher sexually assaulted Matty, and we taught ourselves Italian and ran away to Italy, where we worked our way to the point at which we met you." I frowned.

"Mello, I-" He put up a finger of his uninjured hand, shushing me.

"Recently, we found a picture of our old teacher in the news. He had changed his name to Rod Ross and was, ironically, pursuing the same path we were." Mello made a fist and looked up at us with a scary-ass expression. "So we decided to crush him."

"Really?" breathed Donello, apparently thrown by the passion in Mello's voice. Instantly, all that emotion was gone, and Mello snapped from being apparently furious to being calm and collected.

"Of course not. That's just the story. It took several weeks of infiltration, and the survival of a near mutiny against him to gain his trust before we could get close enough to kill him."

"Mello, Ross isn't dead."

"There was an unfortunate terrorist attack two weeks ago. Ross was, unfortunately, one of the victims."

"A terrorist attack?"

"Yeah. Too bad the sight of him distressed you so much that I had to lay the explosives myself, and the premature explosion nearly killed me."

"Why'd I have to be the one raped?"

"I said sexually assaulted. Its ambiguous enough that if you just look sad no one will ask."

"So the explosion shot you?"

"No, when The House figured out I had joined Ross' ranks, they thought we were trying to expose them, since they obviously didn't know about the attack and up until that point, he was our favorite teacher."

"So they shot you?"

"Then we just name-drop famous people and claim they're all from The House, which is a national secret. Obviously, if its government run, they would go to extremes…"

"…and it doesn't technically link us to anything law enforcement, or even to the government since we didn't finish training. When we name drop, we'll have to find people who are highly intelligent, but don't do anything Pitre could perceive as threatening. Also, we might make up a few 'past profiles' for ourselves to give him that prove their ability to fabricate pasts so the people we mention to him don't seem suspicious for not seeming suspicious…" I said, already pulling out my computer to see what I'd look like blonde. I could be a Nick. Or a Sam. Now for last names….hmmm…

"You guys got it?" Nevelli, Jensen and Donello nodded hesitantly.

"Signore, you two seem to have done everything while we played a minimum role. How would you get burnt on a lone mission when you bring me, who is expert in explosives?"

"It was a very personal revenge. We brought you along just in case, but I always intended to blow him up myself, if Matty couldn't do it. Anyways, that 'minimum role' is basically what you did in real life. It doesn't mean you aren't useful, it just means that you did your jobs, which was to act as members of a team rather than to force yourselves into a prominent role when one wasn't needed. That kind of help is always misguided, and rarely appreciated. What you guys did was extremely important." I rolled my eyes at the computer screen. Mello had a way of talking where it sounded like a compliment, even though he basically said they hadn't done anything. The sexual assault thing wasn't exactly what I wanted, but it fit the story well, and, as Mello pointed out, it would discourage more questioning than was strictly needed. Plus now Mello owed me.

By the time we got to the airport, I had booked our tickets for a private flight online, and established that we were important people, so the security scans on us would be at a minimum. Don't want to offend the Italian ambassadors, even if their suitcases are suspiciously heavy and they look dangerous. Mello put on a black turtleneck and vanished his coat somewhere, adopting a soft accented voice and dignified attitude for his ambassador role. He also made me change a little, and the other three were given earpieces so they could explain their weapons away with their bodyguard statuses. When the cabby had asked what I was doing on the computer, since I definitely didn't have internet while we drove (I did my best not to snort. I never didn't have internet. Never.) Mello answered without even pausing that I was working on my book, and went on to give a summary of the detailed plot in my mafia centered murder mystery. As he came more and more back to himself, Nevelli, Jensen and Donello all seemed impressed by Mello's skill at manipulation and deceit. Whenever they were in contact with him, he was in a position where he had already taken charge, and needed only to give orders, so they had probably never realized that Mello could persuade people into doing the things he couldn't command them to do. When a security guard came to take his bag, the one with a gun in it, Mello flinched away dramatically, curling himself towards Donello, as his eyes went wide with panic.

"S-Sorry. I am somewhat jumpy." He gave a self-deprecating smile, but the fear didn't leave his eyes. "As you can see, I've been attacked before, here. It seems someone does not appreciate the union I hope to develop with your country." The security guard listened eagerly to the lovely picture Mello painted of a world where everyone was united under common principles and sparkling cities rose out of the empire built on peace. It was only a distraction, since the man waved us past security and the x-ray machines, but the way Mello made his utopia sound was so detailed and realistic, it made me glad he had only turned to a life of crime. If he wanted to, I had no doubt Mello could've been the next Hitler. Countries could topple under that silver tongue of his, let alone the mere security guard, who seemed to have forgotten he had ever wanted to search Mello's bag. If he did remember, he clearly thought better of it. Why startle the man again, when the young ambassador was clearly here on a mission of peace?

Mello's POV

Speaking to Pitre was incredibly easy. When he saw us, he lit up and greeted us right away, and when he

saw my injuries, he seemed much more concerned than suspicious.

"I am glad you have come back, Mello." The strange thing was, he genuinely seemed to mean it.

Powerful people and their lines of successors. I'll never understand the draw.

"Thanks. We went to-"

"No, Mello, you look like you are in need of rest. I will speak to Nevelli next, she will tell me. Unless

there is anything you are wanting to add first?"

"No, sir." He groaned, good naturedly.

"I told you, it's Leo."

"Yessir. I actually-" I yawned. "I actually could use s'more sleep." We waved Nevelli in on our way out

and finally, finally got back to our house. I collapsed into my bed and slept.

Twenty hours later, I woke up to Matty sitting on the corner of the bed with a bowl of soup.

"Is little Melly done with naptime yet?" He cooed at me, and I made a token wave at his head. "I

brought some food and then you can go back to sleep."

"Thanks, Matt."

"S'cool." I reached my arm up to grab the bowl, but recoiled in pain.

"I…can't grab it." I muttered. Matt's grin grew.

"That's fine. I'll help little Melly with his din din." I growled at him, but he ignored me. I hope never to

repeat the horrible experience of being driven by hunger to tolerate Matt's airplane noises, and "Open

the tunnel!" voice. Already sinking back into sleep, I said

"I'll kill you when I can move."

"Mello, it's not good to go to bed without brushing your teeth. Do we need to sing the dental hygiene

song?"

"I'll torture you and then kill you."

"Promises, promises." He stuck his tongue out at me, but the warmth of the blanket being tucked

around my neck was welcome, and the hands that pushed my hair back from my face were gentle, so I fell back asleep resolving not to kill Matt. The torture was non-negotiable.

Almost a week later, I could finally sit up and eat by myself without having to endure Matt's patronizing

care of me. I guess I'd really overdone it with my performance at the airport immediately after escaping

the hospital.

A week after that, I was up and walking around the house. I used the opportunity to hide every one of

Matt's games as punishment, and began writing up plans for missions we could easily carry out. It'd

been too long. I was ready to reassert myself as the best caporegime in the Family.

Two weeks went by before we successfully pulled off the first mission. That success convinced Matty I

wasn't a china doll, about to break, so we picked up our old schedule of two heists a week.

When, almost a month and a half after my return, Pitre called me, I immediately suspected Jensen or

more likely, Donello had finally told him the truth of what we had done. Being a witness to Nevelli's

surprising display of loyalty, I didn't doubt her, and she had insisted on staying close to us since we'd

returned. I walked in prepared for anything. Pitre sat in his usual desk, but in front of him sat a young

man of maybe 23 or 24, who had shiny black hair like Pitre's, but a thin, somewhat sour face. He wore a

designer suit with a white silk shirt underneath.

"Sorry, sir, I did knock, but if you're busy…"

"Of course not, Mello. I called you here so you could meet Flavio."

"Uh, hey." He looked at me coolly and raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Pitre, asking

"Padre, chi e quest'uomo?" Padre?

"Flavio is my son. I am leaving him in your care so you can show him the side of the business that isn't

just spending money."

"Scusa! I will not buy any more cars without asking, va bene?"

"You need to learn, Flavio. Mello will teach you. Mello?" You're like a son to me, Mello. Be my fucking

successor, Mello. If he had a son, what the hell was he messing around with me for? Bull shit.

"Of course, sir."

And then because God likes to piss on my life, Ryuk chose that moment to float through the wall and say,

"The apples were nice, but Colorado is boooring. Entertain me, Mello Yellow."

Fuck.

A/N: The formatting is weird. Sorry.

"_Siete in grado di viaggiare_?"

Do you feel well enough to travel?

"_Io sto bene_!"

I am fine!

"_scusa, signore_."

Sorry, sir.

"Sei stato sparati. Lasia mi auitarti. Per favore…"

You have been shot. Let me help. Please.

"Hai una pistola?"

Do you have a gun?

"Si."

Yes.

"Bene."

Fine.

"Gli hanno sparato!"

He was shot!

"Padre, chi e quest'uomo?"

Father, who is this man?

Scusa

Sorry!

DUUUDE. My Italian is sooo wrong. I can feel it. Just…If anyone speaks Italian, I'll write them a one-shot to fix everything and explain it to me. Thanks.


	13. Near Kills Mello

Matt's POV

"Bring me something to eat."

"Do I look like a waiter?"

"You are Mello's flunky, yes? Mello is responsible for my care. Therefore, you need to do what I say."

"Didn't sound like he was responsible for caring for you so much as reforming you."

"Eh, same thing. I stay here a couple weeks until Padre gets over his ridiculous mindset and comes to make an apology to me. If either of us learns a lesson, it will be him."

"Yeah, well, I sense an educational opportunity for you. Go_ learn_ how to make yourself something to eat, or you can _learn_ how to deal with hunger for- how long did you say?- a couple weeks."

"Do not speak to me in that voice, little boy. You believe because you are favored by Padre, he will favor you above me? His own son? I can have you disappear, or you can make me some food. I will even pay you, like a good little waiter."

"No."

"No?"

"No." I enunciated clearly, so he would understand.

"Bene! I will ask one of the scum. You have just made yourself an enemy, boy." _One of the scum_ looked up from cleaning her guns and scowled at the pompous asshole.

"Awww, too bad." I said, already returning my attention to my game.

"It will be. Padre won't like to hear how I haven't even seen his golden boy since I've come to stay in your disgusting hovel." I rolled my eyes and got up.

"I wonder if your Padre knows that his son is so pathetic he needs to namedrop him every sentence to even maintain a semblance of being taken seriously. We're not your babysitters and we're not your slaves. Find someone else to hold your hand and walk you through life." I walked away to find a chocolate bar, giving up on my game. I just wasn't in the mood anymore, and the douche was right- Mello had been hiding away for too long. This wasn't one of his usual fits; something was up.

"Mello? Mels…I brought you some chocolate."

"I'm not a fucking dog. You can't just lure me out with treats." I bit back the observation that that method had always worked before and focused instead on relief he had said anything. At least he hadn't died in there.

"Mello, I know you're upset-"

"I'm not fucking upset!"

"Then why haven't you left your room in a week?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Mello, I sleep in there too. And you haven't let me in. Either let me get my stuff, or tell me what's going on." I heard muttering behind the door followed by slightly hysterical laughter. "Is someone in there?" More giggling.

"Just me and my demons." Then a harsh whisper, "Really? 'Cause I say you're a demon and it just so happens that I am always right."

"Mello?"

"Fuck you."

"Mello, who are you talking to?" No answer. Something was seriously wrong, so I went downstairs to retrieve a sledgehammer, and returned quickly, bashing at the door hinges until the door collapsed under its own weight, leaving only a piece of it still standing. I glanced at the piece curiously, noting that the small scrap of door was still locked as I walked through the otherwise empty doorway. Mello was lying on the bed and staring blankly at an empty corner of the room. He seemed unfazed that I had basically knocked down the door.

"Mello? Are you alright?" He smiled at the corner dreamily and then his eyes snapped to me.

"Matty, did you know I'm vastly more entertaining than Near ever was?" I checked him for a temperature. He giggled. "That makes me number one."

"Sure you are." I assured him, while I checked the dilation of his pupils. When I looked into his mouth, he pushed me away harshly.

"Of course he didn't find anything. I brush three times a day." Seeing nothing physically wrong with him, I grabbed him by his shoulders and shook, hard.

"Who are you talking to?"

"You know Nevelli?"

"Serena Nevelli? Yeah, I know her." He was talking to Nevelli?

"I like her."

"That's nice. Why don't you go downstairs to talk to her?"

"I don't want her to die."

"Me neither."

"But she will."

"None of us are going to die."

"We are all going to die."

"Well, eventually, yeah, but-" Suddenly, it was Mello gripping my shoulders, his intense eyes completely focused on mine.

"Not eventually. There's a date set for all of us, and it's not eventually, it's in ten years, it's in five years, it's tomorrow at three." He turned and pointed a gun at the corner. "Shut up!"

"Who do you think you're seeing over there?"

"I'm trying not to!" His fingers gripped his shiny new rosary. "You shall have no other Gods before me. You shall not bow down to them nor serve them. Nor buy them FUCKING APPLE S JUST BECAUSE THEY PROMISE TO SHUT UP IF YOU DO!" It clicked.

"Is the shinigami in the room?" I peered into the corner.

"He's not there anymore, he's hovering over your head, making faces."

"Why don't you want to give him apples?"

"That's the only commandment I haven't broken!"

"Thou shalt not offer fruit to stray Gods of Death that follow you home from cases?" He glared.

"No, I-…I-…I-…I think-….WILL YOU STOP TALKING OVER ME?"

"Mello?"

"What?"

"I've always respected your religious beliefs. But you need to come up with a solution that isn't just holing yourself up here while his annoying habits drive you slowly crazy."

"It isn't his annoying habits, it's that he spent most of the last week tracking down people I care about and telling me when they're going to die."

"Wait…" Something he'd said before suddenly took on new relevance.

"Did you say someone was going to die tomorrow at three?"

"Yeah, Nevelli."

"Well, shit."

"I need to think."

"That's what I've been spending the week doing."

"Give him the damn apples."

"That won't change anything."

"Then what's he been trying to persuade you with? I know he's withholding help for his apples. So give them to him, for Nevelli."

"People die all the time."

"But this is Nevelli! Serena!"

"So?" So? So? This was the woman who followed us into supernatural war, who dropped her old allegiances to show her complete loyalty, who had asked after Mello twice every day in the last week, never prying, but genuinely worried for him.

"You're a bastard."

"Yes."

"This is different from someone falling on a mission, or getting assassinated. You can stop-"

"I won't!"

"Fine then. I'll make my own plans." I wanted him to call out after me, but he was having a heated argument with the wall, so when I turned to leave, I actually did end up leaving. Great. Now I'd have to make plans. What could I do when I couldn't even see the damn-…

Oh.

Well.

Mello wouldn't like this at all.

Mello's POV

I ventured out into the kitchen in the dead of night as I had done for the last week. This time, however, there was someone leaning against the counter, waiting for me with their arms crossed.

"I hope you realize that unless the behavior of your minions changes, my father will be receiving a very negative report on your…club." I growled at him, while behind me Ryuk laughed.

"This is my army. They are my soldiers. And if your behavior doesn't change, I'll put you on the goddamn front ranks. Now move, so I can get coffee."

"See? This is the exact kind of behavior I will be revealing to my father on my next visit. Its barbaric, how you live here like vagrants. Well, that's all very well for you, but I expect to live with a certain level of class, and your blatant disregard…" I scanned my mind for a tasteful and respectful, yet effective way to tell him to shove off.

"Shove off." Well, it was effective. One for three's not bad.

"Excuse me?"

I took my plate and mug and exited, hoping to provide a silent model for how it was done. Or not. On my way out, I flicked off the light. Let him sit in the dark all night.

"He's kind of a prick, isn't he?"

"Shove off." Of course the same trick never worked twice.

"Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer…"

"Don't start that again!"

"Start what?" I turned and cursed. Flavio was behind me.

"Alright, Mello Yellow. I'll just sing something else. I like to eat, eat, eat, apples and bananas! I like to eat…"

"Start following me."

"-bananas. I like to ate, ate, ate aypless and banaynays. I like to..."

"I was not following you, I simply-"

"-eeples and beeneenees…"

"-sit in the kitchen…"

"-ite aiples and bainainais…"

"Sorry, I can't hear you." Flavio gave me an odd look as I shot a glare into the seemingly empty air next to his head, where Ryuk's shoulders bobbed up and down and his head turned around and around in an exorcist-like display. He grinned and sang louder.

"-bainainais. I like to oot, oot, oot, ooples…"

"said I wasn't going to sit…"

"BOONOONOOS! I LIKE TO OOT, OOT, OOT, OOPLES AND-"

"Shut up!"

"Is Mewo Yewo angwy? AWWW, and there I was trying to be nice, by switching songs when you asked…hyuk hyuk."

"I said to shut up!"

"I wasn't talking." Flavio said, looking unsure now, and for the first time, kind of intimidated by me. Oh, good, all I had to do to get him to fear me was to be completely fucking crazy. Accidental, sure, but I had sent one too many glares towards the empty air, and telling a silent room to shut up was never a good sign.

"Santo Padre, he's completely unstable." He moaned to himself. "Why me? Go learn a lesson, he says. Go make something of yourself. Now I am surrounded by the unsavory and the insane." At least I didn't monologue to myself, and my invisible companion was real.

Near's POV

I experienced minimal guilt as I lay the last stone over Mello's grave. Even burying him personally was more out of a sense of commitment than any real regret. I did not wish for him to die, obviously, but I found I could not relate to the hermit crab in death any more than in life. I finished and went back in, picking my way around the graves of Mello the goldfish, Mello the beta, Mello the canary and Mello the mouse. Although all of them had been much easier to get along with than their namesake, none of them had inspired the same sense of companionship, or even entertainment. Perhaps a larger animal, one with a more apparent personality? A dog? No, I could not relate with a Mello who followed commands. Cats were interesting, clean, and vocal enough that if I imposed my eating schedule on one, it would remind me before it starved. They were willful, though, and that would be counterproductive to the exercise of finding easier and healthier companionship. Something to consider later, perhaps. I had already invested twenty minutes into the relatively pointless activity.

Agent Lidner ignored me as I walked into the room. The death rate of my pets disturbed her, and she had been expressing her displeasure any way she could, short of direct disobedience. She and the others did not seem to fill the need that particular impulse left me with either. Perhaps it was the fact I had paid for their company. When Mello sought me out, it was never for pay. He usually benefited in some way, but though I did not pretend to understand the subtleties of relationships or friendships, it usually appeared the participants of those benefited somehow as well. Was there truly a difference between spending time in the hopes of uncovering a clue for a case and spending time for good conversation? Surely he believed I had some entertainment value as well, or he would have sent Matt.

Regardless, I had yet to find anything to inspire the same reaction as Mello. It was something I would be interested in investigating further, yet his foolish stubbornness that apparently drove my fascination caused him to vanish prematurely. It would be illogical to expect any different. Knowing what I knew about Mello, the percentage of him staying was lower than ten percent, the percentage of a legitimate confrontation of his dying actions closer to five. Still, it was those very actions that pushed him into my mind at the least opportune moments. These percentages were gifts to me from L, a healthier substitution for my What If game that allowed me to face reality and expect realistic outcomes. Why now, when faced with Mello, did my mind spring impetuously to pointless and torturous questions?

What if Mello came back?

What if Mello apologized?

What if Mello expressed regret for his actions?

What if he did not?

All of this was pointless, because it came back to Mello, Mello who expressed no interest in any further communication.

What if Mello called?

That was pointless, because he would not.

The phone rang.

The noise reminded me of the futility of my abandoned What If game, and I turned back to the computer to get real work done, while someone else picked up the phone. To my surprise, my screen had turned black with one sentence written in white.

Pick up the phone, Near.

Lidner was just answering.

"Hell-" I snatched the phone from her hand, startling everyone.

"This is Near." Of the two voices I had prepared myself never to hear again, this was the least missed. I tried to quell the irritation I felt at myself for missing either of those voices at all. It wasn't like me to form such dependence on specific individuals.

"Hey."

"Well?" I prompted.

"Its Matt. Listen, that thing is back, and it's your fault." Of course I was contacted so blame could be laid upon me.

"What thing?"

"The shinigami!"

"The…"

"Shinigami. Seven feet tall, invisible, hobbies include making Mello look schizo…" I forced myself to overlook his pointless display of sarcasm. I hardly made a habit of making acquaintances with multiple shinigami. Clearly it was my surprise over the situation and not confusion over the identity of the death god.

"I see. Why have you contacted me?"

"'Cause it's your fault. You said you'd take care of him, so come get him, and take care of him. He's messing with our shit." He hung up, obviously assuming I would go. Which, of course, I would, even acknowledging that the invitation was welcome largely because of my recently developed obsession with Mello. He helped me, he hurt me, he _kissed_ me and always left before I could force him into isolation and interrogate him until I understood _why_. Now I had a rare opportunity to pursue my answers. I put down the phone and turned towards the security camera.

"I suppose I should find my way using intuition?" Papers began printing themselves. I picked them up, finding a suggested flight, and a meeting time and place. Apparently, I was leaving late that night. "I am taking a vacation." I announced. Whatever they had expected, it was not that.

"Where? Who called?"

"Neither of those answers involve you."

"How long will you be gone?" I glanced at the security camera, but it apparently had nothing to say.

"I am not sure. Technically, I will be wrapping up a loose end from an old case." I put up a hand to stop the new complaints. "There will be no danger, and I will continue working cases at my usual rate from my laptop."

"Sir, that doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Is it not customary to take vacations when one's work is consistently above par?"

"L never-"

"I am not L. I am going to pack for my vacation, and you will desist in these pointless comments about my dead predecessor. As I will be handling an identical workload, there should be no problems. It is merely a temporary matter of location and company." I sent a pointed look at each of them.

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you. You are all dismissed."

On the plane, I grieved my missing toys. A small section of my scalp already ached from the pulling, and to avoid a repetition of the balding incident when I was twelve, I relied on the redirection of my attentions by my blocks, dominoes, cards and dice. Redirection that was now missing due to the limited storage space of carry-on baggage. It was frustrating, too, to realize how severe my reliance on these props had grown. Even knowing that it was unwise to pull, I found my anxiety growing whenever I did not. I switched hands and sides. I felt too pathetic to ask for company on the flight, but I wished I had now. Anyone to detract from the displacement of a foreign situation. If only someone had offered, saving me the humiliation of asking. Not a member of my team, obviously, though they had taken on roles more similar to those of caretakers recently. Still, I could not envision Mello offering such a service, nor Matt feeling so inclined. The plane shook. I caught the attention of a passing flight attendant.

"Excuse me, ma'am, can you tell me the cause of the turbulence we just experienced?"

"My, what a polite young man!" She exclaimed. I waited for something of value to escape her mouth. "Don't worry, it just happens sometimes."

"Happens in general, or on this particular aircraft? Perhaps it is suffering from metal fatigue? You should mention this to the pilot. He should issue a warning, preparing the passengers in case of massive decompression." I flipped open the safety book, memorizing the instructions. To my immense irritation, the idiotic woman clucked her tongue at me and pouted her garishly red lips at me.

"Nervous, are we? Where's your mom?"

"I am an orphan."

"Awww, poor little boy. Well, don't worry, I'll take care of you." She dug in her pocket and pulled out a small, heart shaped dove chocolate to hand to me. I inspected it for lint before putting it in my pocket.

"I am nineteen."

"Really? Wow, sorry, you're just so small! Guess that explains why your vocabulary is so impressive." Her idiocy was impressive. I despised being patronized more than anything else. Never mind that I most likely had more degrees than all the people who lived in this woman's trailer combined, thus making me far more advanced than most nineteen year olds, what seemed to matter was that I looked twelve or thirteen. When I dressed formally, I could pass for fourteen. For me, being treated ridiculously was commonplace, but adding on to my problems was my unusual looks which made me- though I loathed the word- cute, to certain deficient minds. This coddling was something I constantly faced. At this stage in a conversation, I accepted defeat and backed out before it could degenerate further.

"Yeah, I read a book about planes, and I guess I got a little worried." I smiled at her. She smiled back.

"That's perfectly normal, dear. I'll get you a soda, kay?"

"Thank you, ma'am." I patiently reclined and waited to die from decompression until the plane began to land, when I waited for the landing gear to malfunction. Finally, we reached the gate. On my way out, I was- to my horror- pulled into a hug by the flight attendant.

"See? We made it in just fine." I struggled not to suffocate in her breasts. "The poor dear was frightened…" She explained to the pilot. Extricating myself, I explained,

"I was merely concerned about decompression. I understand that in this model of plane, if disbanding occurred, the hoop load would transfer into the rivets, and the countersink could cause that weight to concentrate at the bottom of the fuselage, ultimately tearing it apart." I hoped my concern would reach this man, who surely had some sort of higher education, but he looked at me blankly, and as I walked out, I heard him mutter to the copilot,

"Serious little boy, wasn't he?"

(A/N: Now that everyone's in Italy, just assume they're speaking Italian, unless I say otherwise. It would be too difficult to translate every bit of dialogue.)

I followed the crowd to baggage claim then out, and hailed a taxi. The driver looked at me uncomfortably and asked,

"You're not running away, are you?"

"No, I am not. Regardless, I am nineteen, and legally, where I choose to go is my own concern."

"Nineteen? Can I see some I.D.?" I searched the man's face. Clearly, he wanted to assuage his own curiosity. I passed him a fake I.D. card.

"Is this real?" No, but the age was.

"Yes."

"You look younger." This was precisely why I chose to spend the majority of my time in my building. I had no dislike of the outside world, but it seemed to hold a strong dislike of me.

"Yes." Although the man surely didn't comprehend my intellect, he did seem to realize at this point that telling a nineteen year old how young they look could be taken as an insult, and finally regained some semblance of professionalism.

"Where to?" I gave him the address.

It was an ugly, broken down building in a seedy neighborhood with graffiti and urine staining the walls.

"Are you sure this is it, sir?" I checked the address.

"Yes, thank you." I paid him and exited. He seemed concerned for my well-being and stuck around until I finally waved him off. When he was gone, I walked to the door and knocked at it.

"I'M COMING!" I heard from behind a door, and then it was ripped open to reveal an underweight woman with an extremely small dress, presumably to display her artificial tan and sagging breasts. She smelled like sweat, sex and cigarettes, a combination I had come to dislike from the many crime scenes I had visited. "What do you want, kid?"

"I am here to see Matt and Mello."

"One sec." She slammed the door in my face. I heard talking for a while before she opened it again. "Come on in, kid." The moment I entered, a disproportionately large man stepped from behind the door and pointed a gun to my head. I sighed.

I was blindfolded and gagged and my wrists were tied behind me, before I was shoved into a car. I knocked myself against several surfaces before someone grabbed me with bony fingers and sharp nails and buckled me in awkwardly. Finally we reached our destination and I was pushed to my knees. The gag and blindfold were removed, although my wrists remained tied. I blinked against the sudden light and scanned my surroundings. I was in an empty room in a house, most likely the basement from the lack of windows and the quality of the space. To my relief, one of my captors had my bags. If these people were indeed affiliated with Matt and Mello, I would retain my belongings. Speaking of whom, Mello appeared, looking ruffled.

"What is he doing here?" He asked.

"He showed up at safe-house three asking for you two. He didn't use your aliases, so I was worried he was law and brought him here."

"Idiot, if he was law, now we'd have to execute him." That seemed extreme. "Did you at least search him for wires?"

"Yeah. He had a whole bag full of cards, and one full of dice, and one full of dominoes, and the only things he brought in his backpacks were pajamas and a toothbrush."

"May I have my belongings back? I would also like to be untied."

"What makes you think you're a guest here?"

"He was invited." Matt finally arrived, and walked past Mello to untie me.

"Sorry, man, forgot to warn them you were coming." Mello looked furious.

"And why was he invited?" He hissed.

"Someone told me to come up with my own solution to the problem." He gestured towards me. "Ta- da!"

"I don't have a problem." Just as he said that, the Shinigami floated down the stairs.

"Oh, hello, Snowflake. Didja miss me?"

"Not particularly. Were the orchards not to your liking?"

"Nah, they were great. I just got bored. It's never boring here, but wouldntcha know, Mello Yellow here won't feed me _for religious reasons_." He rolled his eyes while he said this, making his opinions on the matter very clear.

"I can provide you with anything you want."

"No you can't."

"I assure you I can. I am quite possibly one of the richest people on the planet at this point. I will fulfill my end of our agreement."

"Then I want a live sex show from you and blondie, a letter of resignation from the American president, and a declaration of undying love and devotion from the Queen of England." I stared.

"Hyuk, Hyuk."

"Very well, you've made your point that not everything is within my means. What do you want?"

"To be entertained. I'll get back to you."

Well….fuck.


	14. I Love You, Man

**A/N: Is this plot complete B.S. designed to keep Mello and Near together? ….no…just deal with this chapter so I can make cute things happen.**

**Thanks to LordKeehl for all her help with my Italian. **

**Really, guys. She saved my ass. Let's take a moment to be in awe of her….**

**Okay, now read.**

Mello's POV

"I want a baby."

"What would you do with a baby?"

"I could feed it and train it to be my pet human."

"I cannot provide you with a baby."

"Yeah, you can, there's stores where you can buy them! I've seen one before."

"Stores?"

"Yeah, little schools for kids without parents, but other humans can come buy them." He scrunched his shrunken nose. "Orphanages."

"Babies are responsibilities for many years before they can produce any form of entertainment."

"I coddled Light-O for years before he was any entertainment."

"Still, when you grew tired of the baby, what would we do with it?"

"Kill it, I dunno. Who cares?"

"We could customize an entertainment building for you, with rooms of games, movies, food, and anything else you wish for. It was irresponsible of me to simply leave you to roam in an orchard."

I slumped on the couch and tried not to glare at the spoiled little sheep trying to bribe Ryuk into submission. Because _of course_ he had endless funds.

"Why do I have to be here for this?"

"Mello Yellow, you're talking to me again?" Two large red eyeballs stared wetly at me from inches away while he clasped his hands in mock glee.

"No, I'm not."

"But you are, right now!"

"I'm leaving. Enjoy your blasphemy."

"How medieval of you, Mello."

"Whatever."

"Gross! Not sweet at all. Bleh, bleh, bleh." He wiped at his tongue, which extended out red and dry and a little too long. A banana flew to land on the pile of discarded fruit that flowed out over and around a trash can.

"I like following Mello Yellow."

"That is not an option for you."

"Yeah it is."

"Mello participates in illegal activities. If he were to act suspiciously, he would quite possibly lose his edge, and have to face the law."

"When Light-o faced the law, it just got better."

"He did not face the law. He faced L. The closest people to L are Mello and myself. I assure you, his imprisonment would be a long and boring sentence for you as well."

"What if I stay really really quiet? And Goggles can feed me. Or I'll kill him." Finally, I rolled my eyes and turned back.

"You weren't this much of a bother to Light!"

"Light-o was trying to take over the world! He laughed, and talked to himself, and made evil plans without me blackmailing anyone."

"Well, I'm not him! So figure out what you want that Near can give you, because I will not serve you!" I left to my room to get a few hours of sleep without Ryuk singing his endless songs. Unfortunately, I was intercepted by Matt.

"How's your boyfriend?" I felt my ears burn.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because he's just not my boyfriend."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, Mels."

"I'm not in denial."

"That's what everyone in denial says." I opened my mouth to say something else, but he interrupted my by getting all serious and putting an arm on my shoulder.

"Mel, you know you're like a brother to me."

"Thanks, Matt."

"I would follow you to hell."

"Thanks, Matt."

"Mostly because you'd probably outscheme the devil, and then I could be a demon lord." This time, my response was dry.

"Thanks, Matty."

"I'm here for you."

"What's this about."

"Nothing, I just want you to know that."

"I already know, Matt."

"Good. So you'll be glad to hear I give you and Near my blessing."

"Your- Matt!" He laughed and ducked my punch.

"The little boy is your lover, then?" Standing in the doorway was Flavio. Oh, lovely. "Pedophilia is against our laws."

"Don't make me laugh. Did you overhear that in one of your daddy's meetings? You know nothing about the Family your father is the Father of, so don't spout off laws, like you know anything. Anyways, even if there was something going on between us, which there isn't, he's nineteen, so it'd be perfectly fine." Matt snorted by my side.

"Oh, real convincing, Mello. You definitely haven't thought about it, then."

"Shut up, Matty." I hissed. He could argue and yell at me all he needed in private, but that was supposed to be with the understanding that when we were out in public, he followed my commands and we could present a unified front. It was all Near! That little sheep ruined everything.

"Well, your goons and I are all waiting for some sort of explanation why we are on lockdown while you make your first appearance in a week, only to vanish into a room with him and the little boy."

"I will come explain to my team, briefly. You, I owe nothing to." I bared my teeth at him. "So back off."

"Don't think my father won't hear about this!" I couldn't deal with that level of shit on top of no sleep and the sheep. I reached for my gun.

Which was missing.

"Matty, where's-"

"Demons!" Flavio was white and shaking. I turned around to see Ryuk holding my gun, looking down the barrel. Near trailed behind.

"We have come to an agreement. I will be staying and continuing my work from here."

"Why?"

"Apparently, we are more entertaining in close proximity to each other. Since I work from a laptop, it makes more sense for me to stay, than for you to accompany me." Flavio pointed at the gun.

"Spirits! D-demons!"

"Pussy." I called him, then turned back. "Give me back my gun."

"You're no fun, Mello Yellow." But he gave it back. And I turned towards Flavio.

"Now put down your gun."

"You spoke to it. It obeys you?" He started praying under his breath and looking frantic, which was a little irritating, because, honestly, I am a true catholic, and he is a prat. "Your success is from the devil. God will strike you down!" Ouch. An apple rose from the fruit bowl in the room, and he squeaked, made the sign of the cross and backed out.

"Does Mello now understand why his religion can be irritating to others?" I glared at Near.

"Don't be stupid, I'm a completely different Christian from him." He raised a thin white eyebrow, but otherwise seemed to drop it. "Anyways, what were you doing playing ghost in here anyways?"

"It was Ryuk who frightened your associate."

"You look more like a ghost normally than he does doing his floating objects act."

"Boo." He said in a monotone. I stared. Did Near just make a joke? A joke? Before I could interrogate him, he shuffled out.

Weirdo.

Matt's POV

When I first met Mello, I ignored him. I didn't beg for his attention and yet he gave it to me. He chose me. We became a team, a single word as in MelloandMatt or even the occasional MattandMello. Where he went, I went, and where I went, he went. I'd never had anyone like that before. Other students bonded over their pasts, but I had been at Whammy's as long as I could remember, and the world outside those walls seemed entertaining, but fake, like the worlds in my videogames. Mello wasn't like that. He looked at Whammy's as home base, to plan the conquering of the rest of the world from. The world was the playing field for him. After he arrived, and we started spending all our time together, he would use one of the monitors in my room to watch the news, twice a day. Once, when I asked him why, he replied,

"The news is where changes are reported. Someday the changes they report will be our changes." I nodded, but I was really more touched by the "our changes" part than anything else. Usually, when I asked him what we'd do, he said "Dunno", seeming completely unconcerned. I wished I had that certainty, to know I would succeed, even when I didn't know how. As I got to know him better, I learned that he actually did have plans, but they changed so often, planning literally just became practice for him. He had a new conquering strategy after every news report, and how it served him was when the moment came to strike, he could come up with his mafia plan in less time than I cared to think about. Sometimes it was terrifying knowing we had spent the last five years following a plan Mello had come up with in maybe ten minutes, but since it was Mello, I trusted it.

Another guy followed our group for a while. Shaun seemed cool enough, and he did everything Mello asked, but whenever he was gone, Mello would complain about what a whiny little puppy he was.

I wondered if he ever complained about me to Shaun.

One day we walked in on him bragging to some other kids about how Mello was like a brother to him. That was the first time Mello broke someone's bones in a fight. He got in trouble for ages, and afterwards, I asked him why he'd gotten so angry. He said,

"I already have a brother."

"Really? What's his name?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. His name was Nitzachon. He's dead." I squirmed for a couple of moments, fighting between the delicacy of the situation and my morbid curiosity before I cracked and asked,

"How'd he die?"

"He ended up in a bad foster home."

"You were in the system?"

"No. I came here. He was smart, but not as smart as me." He looked at me, and I actually flinched back. The fury of his expression before he'd nearly killed Shaun was nothing compared to this. "That's why I'm first place here. Anything besides winning is worthless. Second place might as well be fiftieth place for all the difference it makes." As second place, I was a little offended, but I understood that my position wasn't about place, it was about being next to Mello. He was right about how it might as well be fiftieth place. If I had been fiftieth, he'd still have taken me. Even knowing this, though, when he told me to stay second, I did. If he was going to take me along with him, I had to prove myself worth it.

A week after that, we were lying in our beds, both about to pass out from exhaustion after racing Mario Karts till nearly four- his determination to win and my superior videogame skills always kept us up late- and as I closed my eyes, he started talking.

"I got Roger to let me move my stuff here."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm here every night anyways."

"He didn't think it was weird?"

"We're like brothers. And brothers share rooms sometimes." I knew how much that cost him by the way his fingers tightened around his rosary.

"Cool. It'll be great."

Two months later, Near arrived.

"He's cute."

"What?" Mello dug around in a toy box until he unearthed a stuffed sheep.

"He looks like this." He shrugged. "Cute."

As the number one, Mello was brought to the office to officially welcome Near. I still don't know what happened while he was in there, but Near wandered out in the direction of his room, and minutes later, a furious Mello stomped out. He yanked me up by the arm.

"So who is he?"

"That's Near. We don't like him." I nodded.

"Okay. What happened?"

"Nothing!" The bruise on my arm stayed there for almost a week. Usually, Mello didn't hit me. He said it was 'cause I was too much of a wimp to take a proper hit, but I recognized both the kindness and the refusal to own up to the kindness. But Near always made Mello do things he didn't normally do.

The next day, Mello was moved down the list, for the first time since he came to Whammy's. That night, a stuffed sheep was burnt outside of Near's door. They never caught whoever did it, though I was terrified they'd figure out it was me who stole the kitchen lighter. He never gave me the impassioned speech about first place again, but I could feel it emanating out from him in waves of frustration every time Near beat him.

He stayed up studying for almost four days before he collapsed from exhaustion in class.

_Second place might as well be fiftieth place for all the difference it makes._

He kicked a hole through the TV screen in my room, because he said the noise of my game was ruining his ability to study.

_Anything besides winning is worthless._

He pushed and yanked and tripped, and even occasionally hit Near.

But the places never even wavered once. Near remained first. And I could practically see Mello's mind on his brother, left behind to die because he was second best. Sometimes, at night, he would squeeze his cross so tight it left an imprint on his hand that would take half an hour to fade.

Then one night, he had a fight with me about something really stupid. I can't even remember what. For the first time, he went to his room to sleep. I felt really bad about it, because he hadn't done that in almost a year, since I made him third place for a week while we did computer studies, so I snuck up with an apology hot chocolate. His room was empty.

When I found Mello in Near's room, I couldn't understand. He claimed it wasn't a sexual thing, and I more or less believed him, but that left the question of what the hell it actually was.

It was almost two months later before I thought about what he'd said to me.

_Brothers share rooms sometimes._

Was that what was going on? Was Near his new "brother?" Mello drew me a picture of Nitzachon, once, and the kid was all big eyes, and tiny frame, like a less terrifying version of Near. Then later, Mello kissed Near, which wasn't something brothers did, but we'd kissed that one time- though the residual awkward still made me shiver when I thought of it- and I was confused enough that I didn't like the feelings I got when I looked at Mello teasing Near about his ghost-like complexion, and the emotionally unavailable Near becoming emotionally available enough to tease back. What the fuck? They were so bad together, it irritated me to see them making little tweaks to their own personalities to accommodate each other.

It wasn't right. Neither was Mello's smile which he quickly smothered when he walked back over to me.

"Didja hear him? He actually made a joke. Weird, huh?" I looked at him, but he was already looking past my shoulder after Near. I thought we'd left this behind! Leaving at all had felt like narrowly avoiding disaster; this wasn't fair. That stupid little smile was back again.

"Yeah, weird."

Near's POV

I had to tell my team that it would be an extended vacation. Really, it was irrelevant, since I would be doing the same work regardless. Technically, I could work from here for years. Unless Mello killed me. Hmmm….three percent chance if I did not goad him. Seven percent if I did. I could deal with a seven percent chance. In the room I shared with Nevelli- fully understanding the underlying insinuation that I was feminine enough to stay in the women's room- I unfolded my laptop and unpacked my cards. I designed a cathedral with turrets and three towers, and solved two cases before I succumbed to exhaustion.

I woke up at 6:00 exactly. I was ready by 6:30. It was 8:00 and I had solved another case when I heard yelling from the first floor. I went to investigate and discovered a verbal battle over what to order for breakfast. Why did they do that when Mello could cook? I assumed it was another of his ridiculous gender stereotype driven actions, and he would not appreciate his cooking abilities to become common knowledge. I looked around for the most humiliating way to expose him.

"Mello, why do you not cook? Mello is very talented in the kitchen, particularly when making pancakes."

"Shut up."

"Ah, look!" I used a pointed finger to draw the room's attention towards an apron hanging on a nail. Silently, I apologized to it, as I was certain my teasing would cause it to meet a fiery death later that day. The finger moved to my lips, as if I were deep in thought. "Mello, did we not have a conversation very recently regarding what a good wife he would make som-? eep!" When Mello actually hurled himself at me I was forced to perform a slightly painful twisting maneuver to avoid being tackled. I made an undignified noise and, as he began to pick himself up, I bolted. Perhaps it would be a good idea to invite my team back with me. After all, if this were representative of the rest of my stay, I would have to factor into my calculations the possibility that Mello would simply allow me to die by not feeding me. Or by accidentally crushing me in one of these ridiculous tackles. Truly, he had no self control. When I returned to my room, Nevelli was gone, and I continued solving cases from the laptop. If Mello found me, then so be it. He and Matt burst into the room, but did not spot me, most likely because I was working from the closet. Of course, I would not make it _easy_ for him to find me. They checked under both beds, and I was pleased I had not chosen to hide there. Finally, the footsteps receded and the door closed. I exited the closet…

…to find Matt sitting on Nevelli's bed, playing a muted game.

"Thought I heard you breathing." It was a statement and therefore did not require a response. I waited. "You don't know anything about Mello. You've never been with him when he's sick, or tired, or hurt. Don't think because you're here, anything has changed." Ryuk's head made an appearance, through the wall.

"Somebody's jealous!"

"That is true." I replied to both of them. Ryuk crossed his eyes.

"I knew a Gelus once. Morbid little guy."

"Near, you know you're lucky Mello doesn't try to shoot you when you tease him. Don't push your luck. Be logical, since its what you're good at. You two are opposites. Rivals. Nothing like a relationship would ever work between you two. These games you're playing…they have to end."

"I know."

Mello's POV

I went back for Matty and heard voices. And saw the back half of Ryuk sticking through the wall. So he was in there! As I walked in, I heard the last few sentences.

"You two are opposites. Rivals. Nothing like a relationship would ever work between you two. These games you're playing…they have to end."

"I know."

**A/N: Yay, multiple levels of barely avoided incest there. Just to make it clear, Mello is NOT attracted to Near because he reminds him of his brother, Matt and Mello are just really close friends with some brotherly love going on (Not the Hikaru Kaoru type of brotherly love, either) and I don't think I suggested any Mello/Nitza, but if I did, it was NOT intentional. 'Cause gross. I know there's lots of Matt and Mello stuff here, but its not because they're the relationship focus of anything, its just to point out that just because Mello is crushing on Near, doesn't mean he's gonna ditch Matty. **

**Ignore this next bit if you don't know L's real name.**

**So, in DN, L's real name, Lawliet is pronounced Low Light, which is interesting, since his opponent is Light Yagami or "Night God". I'm not sure what kanji are in Misa's name, but one translation is "One-hundredth of a million Light". It's either that or sea-sand, which would be a disappointing name to the symbolic scheme of things. Near's name, Nate Rivers, was chosen for the River part, to symbolize that he was the natural successor to L, but Nate means Gift of God. And Mello's name, Mihael Keehl, is of the Michael family (Mikhael, Michal, Miguel, Mikal, etc.), which all come from a hebrew rhetorical saying "Mik'hael" or "Who is like God?" Therefore, I chose Mello's little brother's name to be Nitzachon Keehl, since Nitzachon is Hebrew for Victory, which is the sad kind of ironic since his second placeness got him killed. Also, Nitza means blossom, and I love the idea of little Mello terrorizing his brother by teasing him about the inevitable nickname, which happens to be very feminine. **


	15. Aw Tih Zum

Mello's POV

"What the hell? Don't agree with him!" Near turned cold, dispassionate eyes towards me.

"Why? Does Mello believe Matt to be mistaken?" Yes! Well, not really, no. Kind of.

"…er."

"So he intends to pursue a relationship with me?" I caught the same quirk in his lips I'd seen in the kitchen. The little bastard was playing with me! And now Matt was glaring too. I looked at him pleadingly, to try and get him back on my side, but then I remembered what I'd heard walking in.

"Wait a sec, Matty, what were you talking to him about?"

"I dunno." He snatched a game out of one of his pockets and started playing furiously. He was sending out antisocial vibes frantically, but I'd seen this tactic used on other people before, and ignored it.

"Matt, we were looking for Near, and you said you'd stay behind here in case he came back."

"mmm."

"So that means you knew he was here."

"mmm."

"Tell me, Matt, why was it so important for you to tell Near it wasn't going to work?" He shrugged, and his fingers pounded even more furiously against the game. I snatched it out of his hands.

"Matt!"

"'Cause it won't! He makes you act fucking weird, Mello, and we came here in the first place to get away from him!"

"We came here to leave Whammy's, and the whole idea of successing L, and-"

"Mello, I know you too well to believe your crap like everyone else does. You're here because you couldn't take being with Near. That's why its bad that you two are acting like its perfectly normal and fine that he's out here. Its not normal. Normal is us two, against everyone else. Near coming means more of you lying to me about everything!"

"Godammit, Matt!" He snapped his goggles on, to cover the redness of his eyes and pushed past me to leave.

"I'll come back in a couple of days, I just need some time away." I stared after him.

"Mello looks down on the diversion tactics Matt employs."

"Yeah, well, they're annoying."

"Yet he himself has been avoiding a question."

"What question?" Now Near looked irritated, and his forehead creased slightly as his hand rose to separate a lock from the mass of curly white on his head.

"Does Mello intend to pursue a relationship with me?" If anyone else had asked me that, I would've probably blushed, but Near was so clinical about it, I could only mentally roll my eyes and seriously think about it. What did I want? What did Near want? It had been a little too easy for him to admit that it wouldn't work, but that could be because he'd run the numbers in his head and come out with some dire percentage of our future together working out. In my silence, Near continued talking. "Based on Mello's actions towards me, particularly those when he believed himself to be dying-" that would never stop haunting me, would it? "-I have concluded that Mello harbors deeper feelings for me than he is willing to admit to. I cannot yet guess with certainty what those feelings are, but it would appear they are no longer centered around hatred."

"And you don't have feelings either way? You'll just go along with whatever I decide?"

"After a series of experiments, I have come to the realization that I would perhaps benefit from companionship, however, if it was one-sided, it would be less healthy than solitude." What experiments? Did he date someone?

"Companionship? If I…pursue a relationship with you, is that what you expect? Companionship?"

"No."

"Then what?" Near looked at me in that infuriating way, and then walked towards me until he was almost pressed up against me. He looked up at me expectantly.

I was the one who bent down and pressed our lips together, but he was the one who leaned into it, opening his mouth and reaching up to pull me closer. The strength of his fingers surprised me, as did the urgency of the kiss. Kissing a shocked and unresponsive Near had been wonderful. Kissing a Near who kissed back was bliss. Still, this was Near, so even as his fingers dug slightly into my skull, I tried to go as gently as I could, and not lean into him. To my surprise, he frowned into my lips and pulled back.

"Yes. Yes, yes. Relationship, companionship, whatever. Kiss me again!" I ordered. His frown actually deepened.

"I am neither a little boy nor a woman." I blinked.

"Well, duh."

"I know that Mello knows this, however, has he thought through-" Dear LORD, why was he still talking? "…repercussions of an equal relationsh-mmm!...mmm…" This time, I used my superior kissing skills to calm him down before I pulled back enough to murmur into his lips.

"Don't do that again, Near. I do my best not to shoot you and I do my best not to kiss you, but its really hard when you make me want to do both."

"hmmm?" He asked, sounding dazed.

"I might lose some of my iron self control."

"Mello has no sel-" He squeaked when I slid a hand up his shirt.

"I have tons of self control. Otherwise I would have done something like this-" I pushed him against the wall. "-by now."

"Oh? Well it is a good thing Mello has so much self- ah!- self control. Mello, you are leaving visible evidence." My mind stopped its mantra of _mine mine mine_, and I looked at his lips which were swollen and had a small cut from one of my nips. I seriously considered moving to the rest of his skin and marking that, but I had seen that white skin look whiter against blood, I had seen his paleness marred by bruises and cuts, and it would be a while before I could inflict blemishes on him without thinking of those. Alright. I sat down on a bed and arranged him in my lap very strategically so that as much of him as possible was pressed up against me, but not as much of me as possible was pressing against him, if you know what I mean.

"Mello, I am not a woman, or a…a little boy, or a doll."

"I don't think you're a woman-" I started, sliding my hand up his leg and into his lap. I stopped because I found him half hard and pushing slightly into my hand. "Near?" He actually rolled his eyes at me.

"You do not consider me any of those things yet you are surprised to find I am not completely devoid of emotion, or response?"

"I don't want to push you-" He slid back farther in my lap, deliberately applying all sorts of wonderful pressure. I bit my lip.

"Mello should not be so delicate. It is unlike him." With great effort, I formulated words and pushed them out from between my teeth.

"Near…you…shouldn't. do. That. Unless. You…want to get…" I lost my train of thought. "want to get bent over the bed and fucked!" He stopped moving, but didn't slid back up to his old position, and it sent a shiver down my spine when I realized he was actually considering what I had said. His head tilted and I couldn't help the kiss I pressed to the back of his neck. He turned his head and gave me a peck on the edge of my lips then removed himself from my lap.

"No, I do not believe I want that today." I struggled not to look disappointed. He apparently started formulating a plan- as evidenced by the Near head tilt of Doom- and just as I started guessing what it was he was thinking, his hand floated through the space between us to land on my face. The scarred half of my face. The way he did it reminded me of his hand reaching out into the unknown to discover the gun I had pointed at him, months ago. I flinched, but didn't move. He traced over my scars for longer than I was comfortable with. When he reached the edge of my vest, he tugged at it, lightly, and then ordered

"Mello, remove your shirt." I unzipped my favorite vest and then slipped my arms out of it. "Stand up." I shot him a glare to discourage him from ordering me, but I stood up anyways. He walked all the way around me once before he started touching my skin and scars. His fingers were so light, and he only made contact with the pads of his fingers. I closed my eyes and tried to move all my consciousness into whatever part of me he was touching at the time, hoping to magnify my awareness of him. He stroked over the bones of my ribs, shoulder blades and spine before he started feeling my burns.

"Does that hurt?"

"No. It feels nice. Some parts are oversensitive and some I have no feeling in anymore." I waited for a prognosis, to be told of some cream I could apply, or some medicine I could take, or some other clinical observation regarding my injuries, and I tried not to sigh at how predictably cold he always was, and just enjoy the touching. Instead, he stepped in front of me, and I opened my eyes.

"I like Mello's scars. I think they are attractive." His finger went up to his hair. I was shocked into speechlessness for almost a full five seconds. Was he making fun of me? I didn't want to respond seriously if he wasn't being serious. I stuck out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and crinkled my eyes.

"Even though I'm not pretty anymore?" Of course, Near took in my silly act with dead seriousness and informed me solemnly,

"I think Mello is prettier now than before." H-he was serious? I tried again to change the subject, because the intensity in his voice and eyes worried me.

"Well well, who knew little Near was so kinky?" His finger stopped in his hair.

"I believe an affinity for the dangerous type is more socially acceptable than pedophilia." WHAT?

"Near, I'm going to kill you. You have ten seconds to either run or resign yourself to that inevitability. One." He bolted. I touched the rough part of my face, the part I didn't even like washing in the mornings. Prettier. See, this was why no one listened to Near. He said such strange, stupid things. But I still counted to twenty before I went to go kill him.

Matt's POV

I walked down a side street, playing my game and trying not to cry. I'm not girly or anything, but I felt like I was being replaced by a sheep even after following Mello across the world. Was the only future I had to look forward to growing fat in an Apple office with a nice view and a nicer paycheck? Maybe that'd be a good goal for other people, but I just felt like I could do so much more. Mello and I could've done so much more. I had seen a future in which Mello and me took over the world as the type of dynamic duo I saw in videogames.

Damn Near.

I heard a little bit of scuffling behind me, but when I turned, I didn't hear anything. Just in case, I reached for my gun. Someone stepped out behind me, and I felt something cold and heavy on the back of my head.

"If you turn around, I shoot."

"Okay."

"Don't say anything, just nod." I nodded.

"I can see you reaching for your gun. Put your hands behind your back." I felt a zip tie close around my wrists. Fortunately, I kept a knife in the back of my waistband. I had just brushed it with my fingers when the gun was ripped away from my head and brought back with stunning force. I had just registered that that thwacking noise was indeed the sound of metal making contact with my head before everything went black.

When I woke up, the pain reasserted itself in my skull with such force that I couldn't help but moan slightly in pain. All my muscles felt stiff and I was hungry as hell, which made me think I'd been out for a while. My ankles were tied, and my wrists were tied, and I was blindfolded. I turned my head to shake the blindfold a little looser and was assaulted with a wave of vertigo and the feeling of leather rubbing against my neck. A collar, then. My mind sorted through all the statistics I'd seen regarding child abductions, and I thought _Dammit! 20 is too old for this!_ Then, I remembered that he had guessed I was reaching for a gun, and while he had been correct, a random kid would hardly be carrying firearms, so he must've known exactly who I was before kidnapping me. This meant he probably knew I was a genius, but fortunately for me, I happened to be extremely well acquainted with several genius minds, and I decided that I could play up my quirks a little. Someone walked in.

"I am sorry you were treated so roughly." Fingers touched my face, and I instinctively pulled back, only to suffer through another wave of nausea. "You should have listened to Benito." I tried to sound as young and frightened as possible.

"He told me not to reach for my gun, so I didn't."

"You reached for a knife."

"He…He didn't tell me not to." I raised my head towards the voice, and tried to swallow down the pain from moving my head. I was probably concussed.

"C-can I have my videogame back? Please? I promise I'll be good." Why did Mello always play the badass while I had to throw people off guard by acting harmless.

"Is the kid a retard?" Another voice asked.

"Retard is a bad word. I have aw. Tih. Zum." I sounded out the syllables carefully. "Can I have my game back? I need my g-game."

"I thought he was the genius one. Did we get the wrong one?"

"No, this is him."

"He seemed sharper when I got him." I frowned.

"Are you the man who hit me? Hitting is not allowed. Now my head hurts."

"You can take off his blindfold, but don't untie him. He could be acting." When they took it off, I blinked against the light, trying to deal with the visual addition to the spinning in my head. I was sitting on a dirty couch in somebody's basement. A glass of water from a nasty looking sink was pushed to my lips. Really, our safe houses were much classier than this.

"I needa play my game."

"If you answer some questions, we'll get you a game."

"Where's m-my game?" I had already put so many modifications into that Gameboy, I could probably use it to blow up the facilities, text Mello and order a pizza at the same time.

"Do you have his game?"

"No, I think it's still in the alley."

"We'll buy you a new one, okay? Just answer our questions."

"Okay."

"Do you know Mello?" He obviously knew of my connection to Mello. I would have to make myself appear manipulated to be trusted.

"Yeah. He's real mean. He lets me play games sometimes, but mostly I haveta fix computers for him."

"You fix computers? I told you he was the right kid."

"Yeah, I'm real good at computers." I gave them a tentative smile. "Maybe I could show you? After I play my games." It was fairly obvious, but I was just a poor, manipulated, autistic kid, and I couldn't do any harm with a computer, right?

"Nah, don't let him near a computer." Damn.

"Whydja bring me here if you don't want me to fix computers. You could of asked. I like helping people, you didn't haveta hit me."

"You're here because Kira is gone." He couldn't possibly know- "You all may have thought you were special, but the only thing your Family did was hide their names while Kira eliminated the competition for them. Now that Kira is gone, you have to work for the things you want." Well, fuck. They were serious about this then. I grinned foolishly at him.

"That's what Mello always says. That's why I have to do all the computer stuff before I can play games."

"Exactly, Matt. Your name is Matt, right?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes people have to do things that aren't fun before they can do fun things. Your Mello sounds very smart."

"Yup. He knows everything." If Mello could hear this crap, I'd never live it down.

"Can I have a game now? I want a game…y-you s-said I could have a guh-guh-game if I answered and I-I-I ans-ans-ans-ans-ans…"

"Answered?" He prompted.

"Aw-answered so now I can puh-play a game."

"Yeah. Benito, go get the kid a game."

"Why me?"

"You're the one who lost it in the first place." He left, looking irritated.

Mello probably wouldn't be looking for me for a long time. Not only had I said I would be taking time alone, but he would be too busy with the damn cotton ball to think about me. It was up to me to get myself out. I'd never done something like this without Mels before, but I was a genius too. And it'd be good practice for my Mello-free future. I could plan. The first thing was getting something electronic. I was much better at hacking on an existing line than trying to create something from scratch, and I probably wouldn't get an internet enabled game, but I could do a little bit of physical modification to a game to build something that could establish a link to the internet. It'd be very very hard, but, knowing I could beat Mello or Near…well, that made me the smartest kid in the world, didn't it? I just needed motivation. The bump on my head brushed against the couch and I winced. Well, if this wasn't motivation, I didn't know what was.

I could do this. The drugs from the water kicked in, and as I sank back into unconsciousness, I tried not to groan in frustration. I was really screwed, wasn't I?


	16. The Morning After

A/N: Well, you all seem like reasonably intelligent people, so I'll share my dilemma with you. Here it is; although I appreciate the reviews I've gotten, I've only gotten like, one review per 500 wordsish, so its not as many as it seems. And reviews are my bread, water and air as a writer. So when I read other fics that are far, far worse than mine (I'm not trying to be arrogant, however, I've read some plotless, grammarless, continuityless horrors that switch tenses every few paragraphs) but that have a ton of reviews, it's somewhat disheartening. So I could do any of three things. I could start waiting a few weeks in between updates. When I did that on accident, I got more reviews than ever before. But that kind of sucks, because I don't write on a schedule, I just follow my muse, so I'd have to ignore my muse and you'd get less updates. I could switch to a more conventional pairing, and work on my L/Light fic and just kind of let this one slide for a while. Or, you all could be sensitive to the fact that I update as often as I can, have never held a chapter hostage, and am writing a somewhat underrated pairing and all of you who don't usually review can write one for me, as a special treat. In fact, we'll compromise. I'm going to post three chapters of this (Including this one) by tomorrow night and in exchange, those of you whose middle names start with a letter from A-M can write one quick review. It'll take you five minutes, and restore some of my faith in writing. 'Cause it kind of sucks when I give up sleeping time (I am a senior in the midst of finals and AP tests) to write, and then I get three reviews, two of which are "cool fic" or "plz update". And I'm really, really sorry if this comes across as rude, pushy or whiny, but the whole point of me putting my fanfictions on the internet is because I want feedback, you know? I love all of you for reading, and I'd really appreciate your participation in this, 'cause it'll make me sad if this doesn't work. Oh, and you should tell me what your middle names are too. I might name a character after one of you…

Mello's POV

Waking up with Near was a miserable experience. It may have been different if we'd fucked, and I could have at least woken up warm and post-sex happy. But we hadn't. He had insisted that I be present for the construction of the most ridiculously elaborate Lego city ever, so I was cold, stiff, and a church had been built on my stomach, with my rosary cross topping it. Augh, and here was the first complication of our relationship. See, if I hadn't agreed to anything, I would simply have sat up, and allowed the church- really more of a cathedral- to shatter, however, since we were now sort of something, would my actions be taken differently? Or should I deliberately destroy it to show that the dynamics of our relationship were still the same? Or would encouraging normality in this situation have a negative effect since I wanted to establish a new norm? Or would that make him expect more nice behavior from me? Or-

"Now that Mello is awake, he can assist me in cleaning up." And he picked up the cathedral, disassembling it in small hands before dumping it into one of his suitcases. I looked around the room. Besides where I had been lying, almost the whole floor was covered in a tiny metropolis, complete with skyscrapers, a resident area, suburbs that extended all the way into the bathroom, parks, a ghetto, and a posh little shopping center. It was pretty, detailed, and looked like a pain in the ass to clean up.

"Uh, I've gotta go make breakfast."

"Mello usually orders food." Fuck.

"Yes, but, uh, your observations regarding my lifestyle have shown me the error of my ways, and I'm gonna go to the grocery store right now and begin a newer, healthier way of living!" He opened his mouth to say something smart-alecky that would no doubt have me reaching for my gun, but at the last minute he stopped himself, and I wondered if maybe I wasn't the only one struggling to be nicer. Years of practice, you know? Its hard to bite it back when you know you have the perfect come back for any given situation. Instead, his eyes just narrowed on me, and then he turned back to his Legos in clear dismissal. I escaped as quickly as I could, running down the stairs, almost jumping into my shoes and snatching my keys.

"Where are you going?" I spun around to face Flavio.

"None of your goddamn business." Nevelli walked in and seemed confused.

"You always tell us when you go on a mission. What do we do if you do not return?"

"I'm not going on a mission. I'm going to the grocery store." Flavio stared at me.

"Why?"

"To get us a pet, you know, the house has seemed a little empty lately, and I always wanted a dog."

"Really?"

"No, idiot, I'm going to the grocery store to get groceries." He sneered at me and walked away. I sneered at his back. Douche. He was just pissed 'cause I caught him. Really, he was too easy. I was distracted from my sneering when Anya- who had replaced Donello- approached me with a serious look on her face.

"Can we talk later?"

"Sure."

"Be careful."

"Obviously."

The grocery store was a new experience for me. I'd never actually been. I was the king of navigating convenience stores- I could be in and out of there with all the snacks and candy I needed in two minutes flat- but the store was a lot less…convenient. Anyways, I didn't know what to buy. Matty usually did the domestic shit. I got a cart and wandered around for a little while, picking up things that seemed useful. Eggs? We ate those sometimes. Frozen waffles? We ate those too. The frozen aisle was a wonderland of preprepared foods that could be cooked at home, but didn't actually need to be cooked. Cheese seemed useful too, but I couldn't decide between the white kind and the orange kind, so I got both. I couldn't find my way out of the bulk section either, so I actually ended up with a pound each of both. Actually, considering how many of us there were in the house, I made a conscious decision to stick to the family aisle. A middle aged pregnant woman with a child and a toddler stared at me with wide eyes from under her frizzy hair. As I looked at her sweat pants and stained maternity shirt, and she took in my leather pants and vest, each of us shared a moment of disgust at the other. I would never let myself go like that. I didn't know what she could possibly find in my outfit that was nearly as offensive as the ambiguous stains she wore, but I smiled and winked at her just to make her uncomfortable, before selecting a breakfast cereal. In the candy aisle I bought myself a red heart shaped box of chocolates. It was right next to the mother's day cards. And on sale. I picked up another three boxes. Nice. Feeling productive, I checked out and returned home with the food. Anya gaped at me.

"You actually went grocery shopping."

"Of course."

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Did you want to talk to me about something?" She leaned in, conspiratorially.

"Flavio, the Don's son? He speaks about you, and tells impossible lies. He says you consort with the devil, and you kidnapped the boy to be your lover." Inwardly I winced. Technically, those were only half-truths.

"Obviously not. That would be-" An apple floated out of the groceries behind her and started to consume itself. "- impossible. Obviously, I am not consorting with the devil, and it frustrates him to see me accomplish all of this without help. And Near is…he's not a little boy, and I didn't kidnap him."

"I know, signore. It's just…" She bit her lip and looked at her feet, and I used the opportunity to shoot a quick death glare at the madly giggling god behind her. "I worry. I think he might be insane. Truly insane. He rambles on about these things, but also, I see him look at the air sometimes, as if he believes something is there. Once he spoke to the empty room. And I found bites in the bowl of wax fruit, the other day, and there's no one else who could have done it." Ryuk made a face. I put a hand on her shoulder.

"I understand. I'll watch him more closely. For now though, he is the boss's son, and all we can do is deal with him. Thank you for coming to me." I really was grateful. It was important that my subordinates take me seriously and come to me with concerns, particularly regarding the mental stability of the other team members. We didn't need another Christana. And, normally, talking to oneself and eating wax fruit would be bad signs. It wasn't Anya's fault that she lived in a world where gods of death went through a Mafioso's groceries and crossed his eyes in delight each time he found a new apple.

"Of course."

When I knocked on Near's door with breakfast- only because he probably would do something stupid like forget to eat if I didn't- he called

"Come in." He wasn't in the room.

"Near?"

"I'm taking a bath. Come in." I struggled with my own morality for a minute before I entered.

"Brought breakfast." His arms escaped from the sea of foam he was soaking in and reached for the plate.

"Should you be eating in the bath?"

"Bathing time is essentially wasted. It is more efficient to eat at the same time, and at least combine the two wasted periods."

"Oh." As he straightened up to accept the plate, his shoulders and a bit of his torso appeared. I only looked for long enough to shove the food at him and then I averted my eyes. I turned to leave.

"Talk to me."

"About what?"

"I do not have a subject prepared." I sat down, facing away from him.

"Alright."

"Why is Mello facing the door?"

"You're naked."

"Mello does not wish to see me naked?"

"No! Well…I mean..." What the hell do you say to THAT? "You're taking a bath. I don't want to intrude on your privacy." There. That sounded good.

"Mello can look at me if he would like to." I considered for a while and then turned around. Near had the plate balanced on the edge of the tub, and was eating with one hand. In the other hand, he held a rubber duck, which he solemnly floated around the bath, leaving trails of popped bubbles in its wake. Popped bubbles meant clear water. I carefully kept my eyes on Near's face while he ate.

"I am working on a case."

"Really?"

"I always am. I am L."

"Well, why'd you mention this one?"

"I find it interesting. There is a body and a murder weapon, and the authorities seem content to finish the case, however, the knife is not long enough to create the scratches at the back of the skull without some sort of impact from the hilt at the entrance point."

"Oh? Is there a clear connection between the weapon and a suspect? It could be a framing. Are you sure it was even a knife? The kind of thing that would slice that deep yet maintain its shape would have to be shaped more like…" I started measuring with my hands in the air. Suddenly, Near stiffened.

"There was a woman we suspected briefly, but she had no attachment to the scene and we released her. I believe she had an antique vanity table with a silver set. An old-fashioned letter opener may have worked. It may be a slight stretch, however, I will obtain a warrant to search." He replaced his fork onto the empty plate and I took it.

"I'll take this downstairs." I braced a hand on the ground to push myself up, but his wet hand grabbed my arm, leaving a soapy handprint.

"Did you truly pursue this lifestyle to escape me?"

"What?"

"Matt said that Mello left to Sicily because my presence was unhealthy for him."

"Kind of."

"How is the statement true and how is it not true?"

"Well, uh, a system like Whammy's isn't really good for someone like me unless I'm at the top of it."

"Nobody likes to lose."

"It's not like that."

"You went to Sicily because you did not come in first. Your stubbornness is-"

"Winning is important! It's not some petty issue that I have because I'm stubborn. It's important!"

"How?"

"It just is."

"Second place is still an admirable accomplishment."

"Second place might as well be last place. There's a winner and there's losers."

"Mello views himself as a loser?"

"No."

"But I won. Based on his statement that makes him a loser. Or does Mello believe he has somehow won."

"No."

"However, if the prize was to act as L, and Mello was offered a partial opportunity, why would he not help. His innovative thinking compliments my logic, we just proved that."

"I didn't want to."

"Why win if not for the prize?"

"It wouldn't have been winning."

"So it is only about winning, not about anything else?"

"Winning is important!"

"So you keep saying, and yet you have no motivation to win except for winning itself? One might as well be a loser."

"Losing isn't enough." I gritted my teeth.

"Enough for what?"

"Enough for anything!" He stared at me. I glared back, daring him to pry further.

"What has Mello lost?" I gripped his plate so tightly my fingers started to hurt. It would be _bad_ to hurt Near on day one of our relationship. Very bad.

"Nothing until the title you carry."

"Who does Mello wish to be enough for?"

"Nobody!" I glared. He stared some more. We didn't seem to be making any progress. I sighed, and my grip loosened. "Near, please don't." He examined my face for a little longer before nodding.

"Very well." He stretched like a cat, raising his arms up so it looked like he was pulling himself up out of the water with some invisible bar. His small chest contracted as he yawned, and he drew his knees up to his chest, so they rose out of the water like perfectly rounded glaciers. Yes, I would look at his knees, instead of his chest, flushed from the heat, or his face, which, with his half closed eyes, and colored cheeks, looked either sleepy or aroused. Of course it was sleepy, but the knees were safer ground. The line of goosebumps growing there were cute as hell, but they didn't make me think things I wouldn't feel right repeating to a small child.

He watched me watching his knees.

"Well."

"Well?"

"Mello has not taken this opportunity to ogle me. I am surprised by your uncharacteristic display of restraint."

"Of course I wouldn't. You're-"

"your romantic partner, of legal age of consent, sitting naked two feet from you."

"I-" wouldn't look at you that way. But I did, I just didn't want to admit it. And Near was right when he said he was…all of those things, but he was so nonsexual, I really did feel like a voyeur watching him bathe.

"Still view me as a child." A tiny crease appeared in his forehead, which worried me more than a tomato-red face of fury would on anyone else. "I do not require Mello's assistance anymore. I can see! Why is he still being nice to me? I do not require this if this is an act of pity! Did Mello agree to a relationship because he wished to be contrary when Matt condemned it? Why does he kiss me when he does not view me as a sexual being? Mello does not even view me as trustworthy! If Mello wished to take care of me, for whatever reasons he did before, this was not the correct method." Whoa. He seemed genuinely agitated.

"I didn't lose anything. My brother lost. And now he's dead."

"What? I do not understand."

"My brother was second place, and it killed him. See? I trust you. And I'm not trying to take care of you. I never was, really."

"What were you doing?"

"Being selfish."

"I do not understand." My chest felt like my ribs were tightening, compressing my heart and lungs so each breath was painful and I could feel my pulse throb through my entire body.

"That's- I can't talk to you anymore, Near." I snatched the plate and fled.

Near's POV

How frustrating it was to do anything involved with Mello. I had believed this would be different because of the nature of the relationship, however, he clearly presented the same problem as always. And even now, I had to divide my thoughts into three in order to properly consider our conversation. Other people, my other Mellos (Melloes? What exactly was the plural of Mello?) never required so much sheer effort. Despite repeatedly attacking me, Mello could not think of me in a sexual way unless he was under duress. Which suggested that he did think of me that way, however, he felt guilty for doing so- most likely because of my…youthful appearance- and would perhaps never allow his control to slip. Unless I were to get myself shot at again. Hmmm. Despite my appearance, I was a nineteen year old man, and Mello's nearly saintly attitude was extremely frustrating. Extremely. Also, the existence of our relationship in general was questionable, as it came as a result of hurt and comfort, both on his side. Was I willing to be constantly victimized, either directly, or by the way he treated me as if I were a victim? As well as I knew Mello, I did not understand him at all, which brought me to my third train of thought. Mello had had a brother. Mello had, most likely, at some point, had an entire family, which was a concept I hadn't thought of since long before I'd even come to Whammy's. I had a few memories of a young woman, to young to be a mother really, telling me to keep quiet, and stay hidden. I had a few memories of doing so, while she searched for food. And one day she did not return, and though I stayed quiet and hidden nearly to the point of fatal dehydration, in the end, it was the police who picked me up. I now understood that my mother had been homeless and alone, unable to take care of me properly, but struggling to do so, and I could appreciate what she'd done for me, but in the end, a few memories were only a few memories and I did not truly think of her as family so much as the first in a string of caretakers that I went through before Whammy's. But Mello, Mello had a family. A brother, at least. I wondered what his name was, and what he looked like. Or had looked like. Would there be a family resemblance? Did I resemble that young woman? These were things I had not considered in years, but apparently "family" was a presence so great that a lesson shown by a family member could drive one's actions for years. Family lived in every moment of Mello's life, even in its absence, and I hadn't even known. I had mocked him for his obsession with victory, assuming it sprung from the arrogance of a child who had never lost. Did I know Mello at all?

Who was I to understand the passion that drove Mello's every movement when I could not even summon up emotion for my mother, beyond a faint appreciation for my existence? I understood the unlikeliness of things working out even before I had known this.

And then my sight went, and I almost laughed at the futility of it all, but chose instead to slide under the water and pretend away the room for a moment, ignoring the burn of the soap in my useless eyes.


	17. Lessons

**Chapter 17: Chapter 17**

_**A/N: Yeah, my mom got cancer, and I graduated high school. If you still want to bitch about my late updating, know that I wrote this despite all of that, and then the computer deleted it, so if it sounds like I'm pissed, that's because I am. Its taken me a long time to pep myself up enough to rewrite the next ten thousand words or so, so I really did appreciate the reviews, and I'm sorry I suck, but I really don't want to hear crap about it, or I will cheerfully stop updating ever again. Thanks.**_

_**Also, if the story isn't as good, its probably because I had to get over my anger issues with both the computer and this story to rewrite it.**_

Mello's POV

Near wandered downstairs looking angry. His eyes were red and his hair was still dripping. Had the bath tried to strangle him in the ten minutes since I'd been gone?

"What the fuck, Near? You look like shit."

"Thank you, Mello, for your astute observations. It's a miracle you aren't a detective." He snarled back, and I recoiled a little. Well, if I ever forgot who he was, it was a little reassuring to see he'd clear things right up by being a fucking bastard and kicking me in the figurative balls.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" I asked, after hearing a soft "Damnnn." From Anya.

"I refuse to rely on Mello for everything. I have decided to hire a personal assistant."

"So you can be helpless with a complete stranger instead? Logical, Near."

"I'm not helpless!" He hissed. His hands twitched by his side. My eyes narrowed.

"You're not sneaky, either. You could've told me, you know, instead of being a bitch about it."

"I am not, as Mello calls it, a bitch." Hearing Near say 'bitch' made up for everything. I resolved to get him to recite bad words for a ringtone, or something.

"Uh-huuuh. Well, I'm wiped out. I'm going to bed, guys." Dario looked at me oddly.

"It's 3:00. And you woke up at almost 11:00." I arched an eyebrow at him. Who was the goddamn boss here, anyways?

"Well, I'm tired. And so is he. Come on." I scooped Near up in my arms, bridal style, because I knew it would bother him more than any other form of transport. I carefully chose to ignore a muttered comment about the futility of two men trying to reproduce from Flavio, because, honestly, who gives a shit what he thinks? The man destroyed his own credibility within minutes of arriving.

"Are we alone?" I looked down at Near, who had only stopped pouting long enough to ask. We were both so much more expressive when he couldn't see; it was like building that wall allowed us to take other ones down.

"Yes."

"Good. Is the offer to hit Mello still available?

"What? N-no! I mean, not for something like this!" His expression changed, but not really to anything more benevolent. If anything, it turned more predatory, in a different way. He looped his arms around my neck, and pressed himself closer against me. He kind of…snuggled into my chest, though it felt like blasphemy using the word to describe cold, passionless Near. I wondered briefly if I was still asleep, when I felt his tongue touch the place between my shoulder and neck. Then I knew I wasn't dreaming, because my dreams were a lot more realistic than this.

"I can hear your heart speed up." Near graced me with a softer, deeper version of his monotone, whispery and seductive enough that I could only wonder _who the fuck taught him that_? His arm brushed against my face. "I can feel the heat of you blushing. I can smell Mello." I would have been more worried about that last one if he hadn't been breathing in so deeply. I sniffed myself subtly to see if I could smell anything, and I couldn't, but judging by the way he pressed his nose into my shirt and inhaled, it can't have been a bad smell. Suddenly, I was holding an armful of responsive, frisky, Near. It was truly a testament to my self-restraint when I kissed him harshly instead of pressing him up against the wall. His mouth opened under mine and he was oddly passive, contributing warm moist breaths, but nothing more substantial into the kiss. I pulled back.

"What?"

"Is Mello allowing this because I cannot see?"

"_What_?"

"Mello is considerably more willing to initiate physical contact during the periods I am blind."

"I didn't initiate shit! You started it with all the…the writhing seductiveness!"

"The fact Mello needs to be seduced is troubling. I think it is best if we avoid-" he started to climb out of my arms. No.

"Like hell we will!" I think I actually caught him off guard.

"Wh-what?"

"You can't do things like that and not deal with the consequences. I'm not a test subject. Here's a consequence." I pushed my lips against his. "Consequence." I did it again. "Consequence." Again, even harder. "Consequence." I could feel his teeth pressing through his lips. Pushing him against the wall began to look like a viable option. Which was a bad thought. Bad Mello. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Near…" I gritted my teeth a little and put some distance between us. "You can't say stuff like that and expect me not to attack you." My word choice sounded unfortunate when our violent past was taken into consideration. He seemed amused by the turmoil I was putting myself through.

"Why is Mello so sure actions such as those would not be welcomed on my part?"

"Because…I dunno. Jesus, Near. I really don't view you as a doll or a kid or whatever, but the way we've always gotten along…this is just a completely new dynamic. Shit, growing up together, I used to think you were asexual. I had nightmares where you got fat and then split into two of you." Complete shock covered Near's face, and then he was laughing harder than I'd ever seen him laugh before, even when I tickled him. He even managed to conjure up enough blood from his body for a light flush.

"It's not funny." He laughed even harder, and actually snorted. This was the kind of laugh that Matt and I used to share in the cafeteria, leading up to the inevitable explosion of chocolate milk from Matt's nose. A morbidly fascinated part of me wanted to offer Near a drink, to see what would happen.

"I was…so concerned…you saw me…as a little boy…but I should have….should have worried you saw me as a single-celled organism!" He burst into another fit of giggles, and I waited for the earth to crack open beneath our feet, because I was fairly certain there was some sort of law saying that Near couldn't _giggle_. As he calmed down, even he seemed shocked at his outburst. He wiped at his face, and though his lips quirked up every so often, I could pretend they were really big smirks instead of- god forbid- smiles.

Fine, it was a _little_ funny. Still, the comparison to Matt made me frown. I hoped he'd come back soon. Hopefully he couldn't be angry for too long.

I detached Near from the wall he was leaning against for support and took him back up to the room. He sat on one bed, and, after draining the bathtub, I came back in and sat next to him. He leaned into me, and I leaned into him, and it only took a couple of minutes of being comforted by his little warmth at my side for me to look at him with far, far more fondness than I would have ever chanced if he could see, and yawn contentedly. I looked at the other bed in the room.

"Where's Nevelli been sleeping?"

"She relocated to the couch. Apparently, I am 'creepy.' It was the same complaint Oliver had before I got my own room at Whammy's."

"Hmmm…"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." It took me a moment to wonder what sounded odd about the question before I realized that he'd been addressing me in the normal fashion for a little while. It made me wonder what discomfort caused him to create that distance with the third person in the first place. Well, bullying and blinding him may have been enough of a catalyst. I hated what I had done to him in the past, though a part of me which I recognized as unfair wished I could stop suffering the consequences of it. Maybe I had to learn the same lesson I'd taught Near in the hall. "For some reason, spending my night on the cold floor playing foundation for a cathedral wasn't that relaxing."

"I thought it was an effective use of your rosary. In the future, would you prefer to be my new headquarters?" I absently rubbed at an old bruise on my shin.

"There will be no future. Next time, I'll watch from the bed, where its safe. You can borrow my rosary for the cathedral though."

"All the people in my city are atheists. There's no point in a cathedral if you're not there." But he reached up and tugged on my rosary. Secretly, I liked the little touches he gave me when he couldn't see. He never reached his target on his first try, and his fingers would scrabble around until they found their goal. A tactile-focused Near wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I rubbed the bruise a little too hard, and hissed. His hands stretched out and explored their way up to my shoulder and all the way down to where my hand touched my shin. As always, I froze, so he could feel his way around the scene exactly as it was when he reached out to satisfy his curiosity. He touched my shin and frowned.

"Why do you deliberately hurt yourself?"

"How'd you know there was a bruise there?"

"I know where all of Mello's bruises are."

"How?"

"I examined you for injuries, and I have a good memory."

"When did you get the chance to examine me?"

"When you fell asleep in my room."

"…..You're a little creepy, Near, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

We actually fell asleep sitting up, leaning against each other.

Near's POV

When I woke up, I was shocked to find I'd fallen asleep so easily, however, my sleepless night preceding the nap was almost certainly a factor, as was the somewhat familiar presence of Mello by my side. Mello felt only a little different. Somewhat taller, obviously, and more bare skin than he used to leave exposed. Also, the scent of Matt's cigarette's still clung to him, though it was fading the longer Matt was gone. I wondered if it was normal for him to take such extended absences. Mello did not seem worried.

As I woke up, I prompted his entry into wakefulness as well, and I felt him come to life next to me. He stood and stretched, popping more bones than I cared to count and pulling me with him down to the kitchen. He seemed pleased and laid back after his rest, and I smiled privately to myself.

Suddenly Mello stiffened. I felt his entire body go on alert next to mine. The tension that surrounded him was palpable and I wondered if someone had broken in.

"Flavio. You're eating my chocolate. Mine." He cocked his gun, and I realized it was already pointed. Surely he had more self-control than this.

"Mello, please do not forget that there are reasons Flavio is alive." I stretched up to Mello's ear which I noticed with some unhappiness that I had to go on my tiptoes to reach. "Is he standing directly in front of me?" I felt him nod where my nose brushed his face.

I reached to the counter on my left, and picked up the newspaper, exactly where Mello always left it in the morning. Rolling it up, I said,

"Children need to be reprimanded. Dogs need to be trained." No one answered my seeming non sequitur and I walked up to stand in front of Flavio.

"Is there a reason you ate the chocolate?"

"I was hungry. It's a communal kitchen, anyways."

"Still, you knew well enough that the chocolate belongs to Mello. Is there a reason why you purposefully incited his anger?"

"This is ridiculous. When my father hears-"

"Please do not mention your father. This is a conversation between you and me."

"Little boy-"

"Also, you are not permitted to address me as anything but Near or sir." He barked out a laugh.

"Sir? I wonder if my father knows his prize branch has turned into a daycare."

"No." I said, and whacked him with the newspaper, roughly where I judged his head to be.

"What the hell? The little boy just hit-"

"No." I repeated, and whacked him again.

"My father-"

"No."

"Ow! Stop it, you insolent brat!"

"No."

"Stop it, Near!" I lowered the paper, and reached up to his head for a pat.

"Good boy."

"I am not a dog to be trained, little-" the newspaper started to come back up, and I heard him hastily change his sentence. "Do not hit me."

"Do not misbehave." I heard Mello start laughing wildly and could already picture the look of intense irritation Flavio was no doubt sporting. Even though I had most likely just saved his life.

"Near, I'm going to the store. Want to come?"

"All right."

As we walked together towards the store, Mello asked me,

"All I'm getting is more chocolate. Do you mind going to a chocolate shop?"

"No." More than anything, what I did not mind was the warm arm Mello used to steer me in the direction we needed to go. If only he were not so adverse to physical contact when I could see. The separation between myself and his perception of sighted me were worrisome. The fact I enjoyed, and would actually seek out physical contact was a little surprising in itself, but since I did, it was quickly becoming irritating that Mello would not touch me. My lesson earlier had been nice, after the initial surprise faded.

I started stumbling more, and would have fallen if it were not for Mello.

"Are we on cobblestones?"

"Yes, it's supposed to look like a small town, never mind that the city is just around the corner. They have a horse and cart you can tour in and people come here to marvel at how quaint it all is."

"I see." I could tell when we walked into the candy store. Even if the sudden warmth wasn't a clue, the enveloping smell of chocolate tipped me off.

"Metello! Dear, we haven't seen you in ages."

"I'm sorry, Daniella. I've been a little busy with things."

"Things, eh? I see you brought a friend. That's a first."

"I always bring a friend."

"Yes, but this time it's not that sullen boy. Tch. Mario, was it? Tell him I said to stop playing those games, and focus on getting himself a nice girl. Now, introduce me to your friend."

"This is my boyfriend, Nico."

"Boyfriend?" She sounded scandalized. "Isn't he a little young for you?" Oh.

"I am only two years younger than Metello."

"Really? You look younger."

"I assure you, I am not."

"Now, don't let him bully you."

"Who have I ever bullied?" Asked Mello, sounding offended.

"Every single patron I've ever had who's dared to get something you want before you can. Why are you wearing that?" Well, she was certainly forward. Mostly, I relied on common courtesy to keep my oddnesses from being questioned.

"I like it."

"Why do you keep pulling at your hair?" Ah, sure enough, my hand had found its way up to my head once again. I pulled it back down.

"I hadn't noticed."

"Are you two serious?" Mello stepped in.

"Well, he did just move in with me…"

"Tch! No use telling young people to slow down, I suppose." I clarified.

"Metello is being purposefully ambiguous. Moving in had nothing to do with our relationship."

"Good. You boys save that stuff for after marriage. And be safe."

"Daniella!" Now Mello seemed scandalized.

"If I do not tell you, who will? Here, I'll throw in a chocolate heart for each of the lovebirds. And a square for Mario. Tell him if he takes off those indecent goggles and stands up straight, he might be able to settle down like you."

"I'll tell him." Already, I was being steered towards the door. I found I was actually disappointed to go. Although I could not see, the warmth and smells of baking and chocolate were extremely relaxing. I briefly toyed with the idea of buying a shop and working from a back room, but decided that if I needed time away from Mello, owning a chocolate shop would most likely be a bad idea. A wrapper crinkled next to me.

"Here, try this." Mello's fingers pushed at my lips, and I accepted the chocolate they offered. The chocolate tasted as it always did, but the filling was well made, and still warm. "D'you like it?"

"Yes."

"Have another."

"Thank you." His fingers pushed at my mouth again, and I opened it, but he seemed to slip, and smeared chocolate from the corner of my mouth to almost my ear.

"Mello!"

"Oh, sorry." He said, sounding distracted. In the absence of a napkin, I began using my fingers to clean my face, and my tongue to clean my fingers. "Wait here." He left. I hoped Mello had the foresight not to leave me in the middle of the road. He returned quickly. "I just found some homeless kid playing a videogame."

_**A/N: Finally, Mello gets a clue.**_


	18. Coming In Shooting

_**A/N: Part two of the painfully rewritten chapters. Hopefully it makes sense and I didn't skip anything. If it doesn't, tell me, and I'll clear things up. I guarantee you all I'm a better writer the first time around. Please review!**_

"Is that unusual?"

"It's Matt's videogame. I haven't seen it farther than a foot away from him since Whammy's."

"Are you sure it is the same one?"

"Positive. Matt modifies all of his games."

"Did you ask how the child came into possession of it?"

"Said he found it in an alley after two guys had a fight. Right after Matt left. Also, the alley he mentioned is on the way from our house to the arcade." Matt had been leaving to solve his problems at an arcade? How very predictable. We Whammy's kids are creatures of habit and addiction. I dread the day one of us turns to drugs.

"I suggest we investigate the alley and look for signs of a struggle. It is possible Matt simply dropped it there, before or after the fight.

"Let's go, then." I heard Mello start walking faster, but without his arm, I couldn't follow him as well. The cobblestones continued to hinder my movement. I almost tripped a couple of times, and lost track of Mello.

"Mello?" I called, not too loud. Suddenly, he was back.

"I'm sorry." He said, sounding properly penitent. Then he picked me up, and started running again. Once I resolved myself to the fact that I would have to trust Mello not to drop me, I began to enjoy the movement. We passed the house in roughly half the time it took for us to leave. The alley was only a couple of minutes past that.

"Fuck."

"What is it?"

"There's blood on the ground."

"Enough for Matt to have died?"

"I don't think so. Its hard to tell how much has dried up and blown away."

"It may be his attacker's blood." Mello walked a little, and bent over. Straightening up quickly, he said

"No. This is Matt's knife and there's no blood on it. We would have heard a gunshot from the house. They've definitely taken Matt."

"Who would have reason to do such a thing?"

"Near, I'm a caporegime in the mafia. Both criminals and the law want to put us down. Shit, any number of people could have taken him."

"No group has more motive than any others?"

"When we first moved in, there were several branches of the mafia with our level of influence. As Kira started killing them off, and I started erasing the names of the people in our branch, we quickly started dominating the area. Most likely, it's one of them, trying to rebuild now that Kira is gone."

Matt's POV

They'd started treating me like a pet, which was fucking insulting. I wondered if I'd been Mello's friend for too long, and it was making me instinctually take the least cool role possible. Yesterday, after dinner, I got patted on the head for being good. Patted on the head! That wasn't the most humiliating part, either. Nah, after I was patted, I had to look up into his face…and smile. As if I was pleased to have done so well. Seriously, if they'd gotten saddled with a real autistic kid, that kid would not have been nearly so sweet about the whole thing. I swallowed back the urge to educate them. I wished I had a fucking game.

Throughout, I continued to try to convince them to give me something more advanced to play with than the old-ass handhelds they were giving me (Chess, and some game that looked like checkers, but wasn't. When I was good, I got solitaire. Shit that I could have played without technology.) but they continued to stubbornly keep me away from computers. I threw a small fit about it, and got kicked in the ribs and confined to my room for three hours.

I did what I could do to those games and still return them in working condition, but they were old school, and you can only do so much. See, I'm good with technology, but if it doesn't have the sensors necessary to "talk" to other computers, it becomes literally impossible.

Mello would have thought of something to do. I missed him.

He didn't miss me, though. He was probably off honeymooning with the sheep. So I started my millionth try to build something useful out of the bits I was taking off my stupid games.

Mello's POV

After we'd seen all we could see from the alley, I took Near home. When I first came in, I slammed the door open so hard that everyone seemed to think I was law enforcement or something, and I walked into a mixture of evidence hiding and gun pointing. I resolved to set up an actual plan for if anyone burst in, but for now all I said was

"We're on high alert. Some other group took Matt."

"What?"

"Matty. He's fucking gone, so get your shit together, because we're going to knock down every gang we pass until we fucking find him."

Flavio rewarded us all with a little gem of his ever-present wisdom.

"We will all die on this fool's mission. Mourn the little brat and move on."

"Thank you for volunteering, Flavio. I had no idea you were so close to Matt, but if you want to help, then go ahead. I'm going to the warehouse to pick up the extra stuff we'll need." The only stuff too dangerous to keep in our actual home was explosives. Saying I was going to pick them up showed how serious I was. While Flavio muttered on about god knows what, my more seasoned team members waited patiently for me to give them the plan. I sat down. It needed to be good. No one made a single noise, as they let me plan. It only took about ten minutes.

"Alright! We're going to do this the way we did the raid on Mancio's last year. Anya, you're the only one here who wasn't there for that. We'll be moving in teams of two instead of three, and Near can stay home and coordinate. We shouldn't have to do more than four, which is two each. First member lays explosives throughout and takes out any guards. Second member goes in through the front, and is backed up by the first member from behind after they're done. Nobody needs to get hurt or die as long as we do this how we always do. Remember to check every room, and never let anything go unchecked behind you. First members will be Anya and Dario, since you're better at hand to hand, and stealth means no guns. That leaves me and Sol to be point. Our talent is better in firearms anyways. Flavio, you're on standby. If anyone gets injured, you do what you need to do to keep them breathing and then go in for them."

"I don't know any medical stuff." I turned.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I did not think I would use it."

"But you know how to shoot?" He nodded. "Can you fight?" he shrugged, then nodded. "You can lay explosives?" He nodded. "If you know how to get hurt, then you should fucking know how to not die. Fine. Go ask Near to teach you some really basic first aid while we get everything together. Tell him I said to focus on gunshot wounds, lacerations and-"

"I'm not very good with blood." I almost hit myself in the face, but throwing your head in your hands pre-mission always lowers morale.

"Fine. You coordinate from here then. Everyone check in with Flavio before you go in with an estimated time, and after you leave. Flavio, you need to keep track of where everyone is, and if anyone falls too far behind, then give one of their houses to a group that's ahead. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I guess so."

"Well, you better be able to. If anyone dies, I'll hold you personally responsible and shoot you in the god damn face, got it?"

"Yessir."

"Fuck. That means Near is on standby."

"Can he do anything?"

"I have a doctorate in medical science and basic experience with general surgery." There was a moment of silence.

"How old are you?" Dario asked.

"I am nineteen."

"Were you planning on becoming a doctor?"

"No, I have several degrees. That particular one seemed useful for the detective work I planned to do when I was younger."

"What other degrees do you have?"

"Criminal psychology, civil engineering, criminal justice, criminal law…" What a little show off. It wasn't _that_ special. I had all the same classes. "Mello has all the same degrees."

"_Really_?" Anya asked. They all looked at me with new respect.

"Yes. Matt also-"

"Tell them later, Near. We have to go."

"I believe I am qualified enough to assist if medical aid is required."

"Great. You can drive the van."

"Mello."

"What?"

"I cannot drive the van. Or shoot in the event that I am required to take someone's place."

"You don't know how to- oh."

"What, why can't he drive?"

"He's lived a very sheltered life. Near, can I have a word?"

"of course." I pulled Near to the side.

"I'm going to come up with a new plan. We can't rely on you to do anything if you can't see."

"I could probably perform a basic surgery by feel." Isn't that terrifying? I could tell he was dead serious, too.

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"What else can you do?"

"I'll think of something. You stay and help Flavio. If it all works out, I'll train you for next time."

"Next time?"

"Well, Daniella will kill me if you don't stick around, and Ryuk will really kill us if you don't stick around , and everyone in Marrienes probably knows we're together now, so you may as well make yourself useful."

"What is Marrienes?"

"Oh, sorry, it's the town we were in earlier."

"I maintain that you should assist me with my cases instead."

"If you two lovebirds are quite done…?" Anya called my attention back, and I left everyone preparing to leave, so I could pick up the mix of T-4 Plastico and DEMEX we'd be using.

By the time I came back, I'd come up with a new plan. Plan Mello Does Everything. Same thing, but if anyone was hurt, I would go save them, and Sol could take their place while I continued solo. Pretty nice, huh? We split up and left. The nearest- and most likely to pass into our territory- was headed by a real bitch named Elaine. Her biggest thing was prostitution, and although we didn't really crossover into that trade (not out of morals, just because it's a messy business to cover up), she had a grudge against our group since Flavio had refused to marry her daughter and join the two families.

The thing about coming in shooting is that you don't have time to distinguish between targets. Out of the people I shot- two coming in, three in the living room, one in the kitchen, one in bed, I didn't look to see who was holding a gun, and who wasn't. I didn't look back, either. Dead was dead. If I'd shot innocents, there was no time to wallow anyways. We searched the house and didn't find jack shit. We did take a notebook off of Elaine with the most pathetically easy to decipher code I'd ever seen, and visited each of her safehouses. Three more people were killed, but no Matty. We detonated on the way out and called it in. Flavio told us that Anya and Dario had faced a similar situation at Salome's, but Anya had gotten cut in the arm by a guard while laying explosives.

"Can she keep going?"

"I'll ask." I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. He was supposed to have asked in the first place.

"She thinks she can, but she'll check in after the next one."

"All right." I hung up. Out of the nine families, this one was looked down on the most. Silvestro was infamous for hooking kids on drugs, and forcing them into the family at a young age. While it seemed cruel, it was a very effective method for having strong young members with many years of dedication despite their youth. Sure enough, although I finished blowing through relatively quickly, Sol encountered some trouble while laying the T-4, and nearly lost a finger before I shot the man he was fighting.

"Fuck." He said, and bent over to catch his breath.

"On to the next one?"

"You're the boss." Damn straight. We'd been having problems with these groups for a while.

Near's POV

As far as I could tell, working for the Mafia suited Mello well, as it offered him plenty of opportunities to risk life and limb flaunting his skills, and playing heroics. As a detective, the amount of mess undoubtedly left behind in each house irked me. Even blowing up the evidence left new evidence, and left me in serious doubt of the competency of the police force here if Mello had not been discovered yet.

Flavio was a useless companion. After his call to Mello, I took over, having long since memorized the list from what Flavio muttered to himself under his breath. For someone who considered himself a leader, Flavio was overly pleased to follow orders in times like this, where he didn't know what to do.

"How did you two find out Matt was gone?"

"A young boy was playing with one of his games."

"Ah. Yes, Matt is obsessed with his childish games. He never would have given one up on purpose. I accidentally spilled some water on one he left on a table, and he yelled at me! Even though it was clearly an accident. Of course a man will be jumpy and make mistakes when there's demons and whatnot running around. You see them too, though, right?"

I looked over into the corner where Ryuk was rolling over and over in the air, apparently bored by the lack of romantic tension between Mello and me.

"No. Have you considered medication?" He scowled.

"I know what people say about me behind my back. I am not crazy. They can accuse me all they want. If homeless children running around are sanity, than I would be proud to be crazy!" I tried to make sense of his last statement.

"I do not understand the relevance of your comment on homeless children.

"You said some little urchin picked up the game, right?"

"that is correct."

"Well, Marrienes is a nice town. Much nicer than here. More than that, it's a tourist site. They used to clean the place up, keep the vagrants moving along. Now, apparently, they don't care about image."

"How did you know we went to Marrienes?"

"If there's one thing this little group is, its predictable. Matt always goes to the filthy little arcade downtown, and Mello always goes to Daniella's at Marrienes. I'm sure you have a disgusting little habit you haven't shown us yet, too." Pieces in my mind struggled to form a thought. There was something I was missing.

It clicked.

"Predictable." I breathed.

"What?"

"They knew Matt was going to go to the arcade. That's how they picked him up. If Marrienes doesn't generally have homeless people, how can it be coincidence that the one time it does, it is outside the shop Mello frequents?"

"What?"

"Obviously, the game was there to deliberately attract Mello's attention. He most likely would have gone there sooner, if I had not been occupying his time."

"What?" I spoke slowly, so his inferior intellect could keep up.

"Finding the game was a trap."

"A trap?"

"Yes, capturing one member of the team was luck, but having Matt saved them the trouble of having to catch anyone else. Mello will go in of his own free will on this attempted rescue mission. Call him, now."

"I can't." He waved the phone. "He turns it off between missions. Otherwise, it could ring, and give him away."

"It's possible he is not with the group that has Matt. Take me back to the alley Matt was taken in. Mello and I went earlier, but he was distressed. Even knowing he is set up, Mello may continue searching if I cannot present him with alternative evidence."

"So?" I groped around the floor for something I could roll up and hit him with.

"All right, fine!"


	19. His Favorite Finger

_**A/N: Surprised to see me? Yeah, I didn't actually get hit by a truck. I was disowned, and there was a short week of homelessness, followed by three long weeks of family politics. So in two weeks I'm moving to California! Until then, I'm in and out with internet, but here's something to tide you over. **_

_**Any of my readers still out there? If you are, leave me three sentences of review, so I know you're still reading. "Update soon" doesn't count as a sentence. Just three. It'll go to the Cheer Shayla Up and Inspire Her to Update Again fund. Yeah?**_

_**Enjoy!**_

Searching through the alley was largely fruitless. Mello had just looked through the area, and I trusted Flavio's observational skills much less than I trusted Mello's.

"Do you see anything?"

"I do not know what I am expected to see. Is the bloodstain not sufficient for you? This cannot be sanitary. You don't expect me to kneel and look under anything, do you? I will not be getting sick for nothing."

"No. Mello checked earlier. If I could only personally investigate…" I was mostly speaking to myself, but Flavio- blissfully unaware of how anyone could possibly prefer their own company over his- answered me.

"But you are too lazy to work, yes? You are too good? Honestly, that loud woman called _me_ arrogant." Years of tolerating Mello gave me the ability to nod absently at him, neither agreeing, nor allowing the fight he was clearly hoping to begin. Such a fight would obviously be disadvantageous to me.

"You need to take me to your father, immediately."

"Eh?"

"Your father is the Boss, correct?"

"Yes." I could hear his voice change as he puffed out his chest. Ridiculous. "Third in the noble line of-"

"Good. Take me to him. Now."

"He will not like it."

He didn't like it.

"Flavio. Explain." Leonardo Pitre's voice came from a few feet away. His office smelled like leather and wood. Without the ability to run to his father if he felt wronged, Flavio came across as uncertain, and even more cowardly than usual. I sighed. We really didn't have time for this.

"Well, uh, Mello. I mean, it's him. Who's been kidnapped. Mello."

"What?" jumped up, leaving his chair squeaking from his abrupt evacuation of it.

"Technically, he is being kidnapped." I clarified.

"Why was this not stopped?"

"Mello did not take the precautions he usually does, most likely because were you to get involved, you would have stopped him. He's been taking out rival gangs. Excuse me, _Families_." Gangs, organized crime syndicates; it was always a pointless separation in my opinion.

"Who are you?" For the first time, directed his voice towards me.

"I am Mello's boyfriend." The need for clarity overrode my general dislike of that particular relationship label. It sounded juvenile to me.

"I knew it!" Flavio exclaimed. "You lied!" I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and my hand itched for a newspaper.

"Technically, when you last inquired, we had not yet committed to a relationship." had yet to respond to my introduction, so I turned my head expectantly in his direction.

"Oh. I had hoped…Mello is young, and very handsome. A marriage between families would not have been out of order. Still, if he is…that way, he is that way. Very well. Welcome to the family. Aren't you, ah, a little young?" He coughed. "How old are you?" I gritted my teeth.

"I am nineteen years old, I am nineteen. Two years younger than Mello."

"Really?"

"Yes. Mello is being abducted, is it possible that we can discuss my age later?"

"Oh, of course. What possessed the boy to go on such a mission? Where is Matt?"

"Matt has been abducted as well. Recovering him was the incentive for the mission."

"I will speak to my Consigliere. To be frank, those two were my best tacticians, and I often went to them for this type of advice." I smirked.

"I can be of assistance. I am better than both of them." I heard inhale to respond when a soft knock came from the door, behind me.

"Enter."

"Signore. One of Sebastiano's men has come. He has no weapons and no I.d., but he claims to have something of yours, and will not speak to anyone else."

"_Now_ Mello has been kidnapped." I murmured.

"Very well, Saul. Show him in." We waited in silence for the man. The door opened again, and I wondered if the greasy smell was a result of my own prejudice against the man, or if it was an actual scent.

"By now, do you know what you are missing?"

"You have Mello." It was not a question. I was impressed by how calm sounded. Flavio was keeping his mouth shut, which was for the best. By the pause, I assumed the man nodded. "What do you want?"

"Twenty blocks to ensure he is not harmed."

"And for his return?"

"We will contact you again for negotiations." I cut in.

"Am I correct in assuming, then, that Mello is currently unharmed?"

"So far, yes."

"Do you have proof?"

"Each day you fulfill your side of the deal, we will send a picture. Each day you don't, we will send a finger." Involuntarily, I winced.

"I understand. Leave." dismissed him. There was a moment of silence, broken by Flavio's ringtone.

"Anya." He announced. I sighed.

"Tell them to stop and return to the house. Mello has been abducted as well." I turned towards Mr. Pitre.

"As of that text, six of these families have been destroyed. I do not see why this group presents a problem."

"They are- were- little more than street gangs. Sebastiano, however, is much more. Tulio Tosco's nephew is Sebastiano, and the little territory and men he commands are a gift, mostly to keep him out of his way. However, now that they have managed to kidnap Mello, they will almost certainly be backed by Tulio."

"I see. Well, Flavio and I will be leaving, then?" He didn't say anything, but when Flavio tugged at my arm, I assumed he had waved us away, or offered some similar gesture.

Matt's POV

"Mello, wake up."

"Ngh…"

"Mello!"

"Stuppit g'way."

"Mello!" Finally, Mello opened his eyes, and immediately looked like he regretted it.

"Fucking 'urts."

"Well, yeah, blows to the head'll do that." I said mildly. In a perfect world, I would have something to do with my hands and eye contact while he glared at me, but without my videogames, I had to avoid looking at him without actually looking at anything specific.

"Who hit…hey, the bastards captured us!"

"Brilliant deduction, Mels."

"Stop being bitchy, Matt, I'm not in the mood to deal with it." Mello calling _me_ bitchy was something I could spend all day poking fun at, but since he'd just gotten his ass handed to him, I decided to be gracious and let it slide.

"Thanks for coming." He snorted.

"Even though my rescue attempt failed?"

"I was just glad you came." They were about to send me to bed, and I was weighing my chances of standing near one of his smoking minions and enjoying a bit of secondhand smoke, when BAM! There were crashes and gunshots from the other side of the house, and Dario burst into the room. His gun was already up when the guy next to me shot him in the head and he collapsed. I wished he'd at least have escaped, so someone would know I was captured, when Mello appeared, guns blazing. For about five seconds before Benito clocked him with his gun.

Bastard just loved to pistol whip, didn't he?

"Of course I was gonna come. They took you."

"You weren't too busy with Near?" Augh, not exactly subtle on my part. Mello gave me a shrewd look.

"Nah. So…uh, if you thought I wasn't gonna come, d'you have any escape plans in the works I should know about?" I lifted a bit of the carpet- really, who leaves prisoners in the same room as carpet and loose floorboards?- and pulled out a small mess of wire and nails on a block of wood.

"Erm, electrical telegraph?"

"Fuck, man, that's it? Haven't you been here for a while?" I cradled it into my chest defensively.

"Yeah, and I've been completely cut off from everything, and pretending to be autistic. What would you have done with the time, curse at them?" Mello glowered, knowing that I was the type to give examples of his past behavior if he bothered to deny the truth. At least I didn't mention that he'd literally beg for chocolate after a while.

"Well, how're we supposed to use it? Don't suppose you had time to lay a network of telegraph lines all over the city?"

"Well, theoretically, it should work with a telephone line, but it'd only send morse code, and I'm still working on sending it to a specific number instead of something random."

"Fuck, Matt."

"S'better than nothing." The fact that he didn't disagree was a testament to how hard the blow to his head must've been. Shit. Hopefully he wasn't concussed. I wasn't concussed the other day though, so I may have used up both of our luck rations. Mind you, Mello has a ridiculously high luck ration. Unless he used it all not dying a zillion times. Eh. Have I mentioned how welcome a game would have been?

"They just keep you in here?"

"Mostly. The one time th-" As soon as I saw the handle turn, I was trying to adopt a blank expression and shoving the telegraph back in place at the same time. It was Benito. Who never smiled unless he was about to do something that left otherwise well-adjusted individuals shaking and talking to themselves. Smiling.

Mello's POV

This man grinned at me, and, being the head of a prominent branch of organized crime, I happen to know the type who smiles in situations like this. So I grinned back, fully aware that it would make things worse for me later, and said

"H'lo there. I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." Get it? Tied up? Fuck, I could feel my brain cells committing suicide at the sheer idiocy of that one.

He took the handcuffs off of my ankles, and the sight of the key was a little more than painful, considering that even if I tackled him and managed to get Matty to get me out, then I'd still have the rest of the goons to get to…but it was so close.

Let it never be said that Mello has no self-restraint. It will forever be a testament to exactly how controlled I am that I didn't tear out his jugular with my teeth when he reached behind me to take off my handcuffs, despite my panic, and the shiny edge of a scalpel I saw in his back pocket.

Something about that moment felt like the definition of Hopelessly Fucked. Nothing could have made the situation worse except for, oh yeah, the collar he snapped around my neck.

"Kinky." I gave him a flirtatious smile, and was impossibly relieved to see that he seemed disgusted by the comment.

"You won't be smiling so much when I'm done with you."

"Better get my laughs in now, then. D'you like dumb brunette jokes? I know dumb blondes are a little more traditional, but for obvious reasons I-" He smashed me in the side of the head with his fist. I actually had to shake my head a couple of times to clear my vision. "Whoa! That's where I know you from! You're the fellow who hit me before."

"Let's make some more memories, then." He dragged me out by my arm with a grip so hard that his nails cut into my arm. Which was ridiculous, because if I could run, wouldn't I have done that already? At least his nails weren't dirty. That would have been clichéd enough that I would have had to comment, and get myself into more trouble. The last thing I saw before he closed the door was Matty's worried face. I tried to flash him a reassuring look before I turned and caught a glance of hallway. Then he blindfolded me.

"So where're we going?"

"Guess."

"Amusement park? Zoo? Candy store? Aquarium?"

"Wrong." We turned and I heard a door close.

After I was tied to a chair, I got to see again. For some reason, I always expect something medieval when I see torture rooms. Is it a sign of doing something wrong or doing something right when everyone associates your time period with torture? Medieval times aside, this particular room looked like the room of any house I'd seen. Windowless, linoleum floor, whitewashed walls, what I assumed was a closet door. Oh, and a metal chair in the middle of the room with the legs cemented to the floor.

"Charming. Very minimalist." He started for the closet (?) door.

"Thank you." He took a sip out of a glass of water, and- surprise!- didn't offer me any.

"None for me, thank you, I've eaten already." He pulled the scalpel from his back pocket and I waited for the inevitable demands….which never came.

The thing about a scalpel is, it's not a very good instrument of torture. It's too sharp. It doesn't hurt until a moment later, and while it can cut very deep, the cuts are thin. Thus the surgical applications. Too many people get carried away by their own subconscious fears of doctors and nurses and dentists- oh my!- and scalpel their way through a torture session, usually resulting in either dead "patients" or inadequately tortured victims. Needless to say, this is a problem that I've ironed out of my own subordinates. The man seemed experienced enough not to make such an elementary mistake, so I watched curiously while he touched the very tip of the scalpel to my arm. A moment later, there was a brief pain. A moment after that, there was blood. We both watched it swell into a droplet, and then a bigger droplet, and then quiver before the surface tension broke and it ran down my arm.

There was a moment of silence, and I fought the urge to ask "now what?"

"Your friends miss you, so I thought we'd send something of yours to remember you by."

"That's thoughtful." I said, and smiled. Having sent a few messages myself, I could guess what was coming next. My arms were already duct taped to the arms of the chair. I didn't think I could move if I tried, so I fought the urge to try, and give him the satisfaction.

"Which is your least favorite finger?" The question was meant to intimidate, but since I already knew what was coming, I was grateful for the choice.

Without my pinkie, my whole left hand would look lopsided, and it's important when I shoot. I can't explain how, it's just important.

Without my ring finger, I would never wear a wedding ring.

Without my middle finger, I couldn't flip people off.

Without my index finger, I couldn't point.

Without my thumb, I wouldn't be able to pick things up.

From a functional point of view, I needed my thumb and index finger. Vanity-wise, I'd feel stupid without a pinkie. I was left with the highly symbolic decision of which was more important; flipping people off, or clinging to the hope that someday I'd settle down. Forever being frustrated at flicking the two fingers being mistaken for a peace sign, or never wearing a wedding ring.

"Middle finger." Sentimental idiot. It would serve me right if I crashed my bike trying to flip someone off on my left with my right hand.

"No." He put the scalpel up to my finger, and his knuckles turned white around it as he prepared to cut.

"Wait." He looked up, surprised. It was the first real protest I'd given. "Are you going to cut off my finger?" No doubt a question usually asked out of nervousness, based on how obvious the situation was and the confusion in his face when he peered into my eyes and didn't see any fear.

"Yes."

"Can you please untie me first, so I can wave it goodbye?" He growled at me, and in that same moment, he cut through my finger.

I didn't really have time to react, and by the time I did, I had clamped down on everything but a tiny gasp. It could have been worse. I knew it could have. The movement was practiced, the cut was skillful and avoided the bone and separated the joint as efficiently as possible. So it could have been worse.

That's not to say it didn't hurt.

It was like the pain was a colorful wave that washed over my brain and covered every other thought, and that color was the orange of light behind closed eyes. Then it was gone. My body decided I was in a life threatening situation, and it would be useless to send pain signals until I got out of it. I could feel it there, threatening to return, like a simmer waiting to boil over again, and vaguely, I registered that I must be going into shock. Funny, I must have been blacked out for this bit of the explosion, because despite having burned half of my face off, this was my very first time. I always wondered why they gave shock victims blankets- seems irrational when the medical staff on hand generally means that the emergency is over, and there's no real point- but shit, I wanted a fucking blanket. Not a blue or white one like the ambulance ones. Red. Like my coat. My coat would be nice, too.

Part of me registered that my train of thought was no longer rational, but it beat feeling the pain. A thought emerged to the surface of my mind that I should probably get medical help, so I didn't bleed out and die all over the chair. Just then, the guy wiped off my finger with a washcloth rough enough that I marveled at my inability to feel anything and applied a constriction bandage. Instead of worrying that he'd just cut off a finger, I felt disattached gratefulness that I no longer had to worry about medicaling myself. Medicaling. Should be a word.

While he finished up, I hummed and watched the black corners of the room growing. If they kept it up, I might not be able to see at all. It was getting dark. I hoped he could see well enough to finish.

"Breathe!" He slapped me across the face, and I gasped and suddenly the room was bright again, and some of the orange rose back up in panic. I pushed it back.

"That's a hell of a way to wake a guy up." He started untying me and used that same scalpel to cut the duct tape away. He ripped off the bits of it clinging to me when he helped me up and handcuffed and blindfolded me again.

I retained the mental clarity not to lean on him while we walked back. _You're in shock_ my mind told me, when I tried to memorize the way back and realized I couldn't remember the words for right and left.

How would I know if I was breathing or not with a blindfold on? Everything could go black and I wouldn't even notice and th- he took the blindfold back off, and I looked around at the dirty room and the worried Matt while he chained my handcuffs back to the ring on the floor.

He left, and Matt rushed to my side. He jingled when he moved, and I noticed he had a shiny new chain from his ankle to another ring.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Oh yeah, the hand was behind my back. I probably looked fine to him. Not being the kind of person to bring a guy down, I smiled at him and said

"Yeah, I'm fine." The chain jingled again, so I wiggled my own chain. "Hey, we match now!"

Then I blacked out.


	20. Everyone Does Their Best

A/N: Welcome to the 20th chapter of A Field of White! At one point, I was thinking this would be five or six chapters. So I'm here, and nowhere near the end. Yay! I bet you want to celebrate this special chapter with a review…

WARNING: I don't really believe in warnings. In real books, you don't get to know who's going to die, or if there'll be sex, or if there'll be violence. Having said that, I felt a little bad about thrusting you all into the finger thing last chapter with so little warning, so I will warn you now that there is a sexual scene followed by more finger squick. The whole Mello's POV bit. You have been warned.

Near's POV

I followed Flavio's body heat and the sound of his breathing until I stumbled and nearly fell over the front step, and then we walked back into the memorized space of Mello's safe house. I felt something like relief at the familiarity of at least knowing where I was.

We passed by the living room and I continued, intent on getting to the safety of my room, but Flavio stopped. I suppressed the urge to completely ignore him, and chose instead to observe propriety and feign caring long enough to ask

"What?"

"Are you going to say anything to them?" Then I heard it, the shifting movements of clothing rustling against the upholstery of the couch. Lovely. I turned my face towards them.

"Yes. Mello has been kidnapped. We will not be negotiating with his kidnappers so they will most likely begin cutting off his fingers, either today or tomorrow." Having both fulfilled my duties and even acknowledged certain social niceties, I continued on my journey towards my room.

"Wait!" Damn.

"Yes?"

"Don't you want to help us get him back?" The '_you unfeeling bastard'_ was implied. I actually smiled.

"I will be carrying out my own plans to retrieve Mello. You may do whatever you wish separately, however, I will not be held responsible if you get in the way and die." I started again towards my-

"Wait!" What now?

"Yes?"

"Just…" it was Anya. Sounding, of all things, concerned. "Be careful. I'm sure the last thing Mello wants is to come back and see that you've hurt yourself getting involved in this because of him." Foolish woman, imposing her repressed maternal instincts on me.

"Thank you for your concern. Some of my associates will be stopping by later. Please direct them upstairs." Towards my room. Which I was finally headed towards. I made it all the way to the door and paused in anticipation of further interruption, but slipped inside and closed the door behind me, unmolested. With no one around to witness the small weakness I allowed myself, I sighed and rubbed at my eyes.

Really, it was an inconvenient time for my sightlessness to reassert itself. Wasn't it always? Mello's god was probably laughing.

I called Agent Gevanni because he came first, alphabetically, in my contacts and informed him that he and the others were needed in Italy as quickly as possible.

I heard the scream and worried mutterings when something horrible, presumably the first of Mello's fingers, arrived. I had no wish to see it.

Unable to do much more, I lay down in my bed and went to sleep.

Mello's POV

"Fuck. You're such a little slut, Near." Near smiled up at me.

"Yeah, I'm a slut." That was even better than when he'd said 'bitch'.

"Say it again."

"I'm a slut. Mello, fuck me." He wiggled his body provocatively, as if he was waving a treat in front of me. "Mellooo." I realized my mouth was open. He was whining for me. _Whining_.

"You'd-" My mouth was too dry. I licked my lips and tried again. "You'd like that, wouldn't you." When he didn't say anything, I was worried I'd crossed some sort of line. I couldn't help it though, testing out the limits, and seeing how far Near would go dirty talking. He looked at me with bright, purple eyes and whined again,

"Mello, I want your cock in me, now." He writhed some more in the sheets, covering and uncovering strips of pale flesh. I bent over to kiss a piece of thigh, but he grabbed my head and pulled it up to his lips, and started kissing me. The first time we'd kissed, he was lost, the second time he was exploring. This time, he conquered, and I couldn't find it in me to say 'no.' Fuck, he kissed like he knew what he was doing, and I didn't realize I was seeking out contact until I was pressed up against him, with the sheet and little else between us.

His was, quite possibly, the most skilled warm mouth I'd ever had the pleasure of feeling against mine.

mmmm…it was…it was….nothing like Near. I pulled back a little to look into his eyes, but they were squeezed shut in pleasure, and I almost lost it again. He looked flushed, like in the bath, but the sheen on his skin was sweat, and hormones, and his fingers were clenching on my arms so tight, it hurt.

It hurt a lot, actually. Who'd have known emotionless Near had it in him?

No! Bad Mello!

"Near…" I moaned- er, said. His eyes snapped open, and I braced myself for the shock of violet eyes, but they were blood red.

"What the fuck?" I yelped, and tried to jump back, but his fingers were still digging into my arms. He wasn't smiling anymore. His monotone was the most familiar voice I'd heard so far, but his words were still oddly provocative.

"Mello, I want you to fuck me, right now. I know you want that. I know you want to put your cock inside of me. I'd be so hot…" Now the words felt like they were degrading him, like something was using his body to say these lewd things, and it was anything but sexy. He fired them like insults. "…in your mouth. I'm a little slut, Mello. Fuck me." It was too creepy.

"Stop it."

"Have you ever slept with a whore, Mello? Pretend I'm her. I want you to-"

"STOP IT!" He did. Red eyes regarded me out of Near's face, and even though the look was utterly detached, it was still wrong. He reached down, and grabbed my arm, then put my middle finger in his mouth. I felt another brief shock of _that's hot_ before he started sucking harder, and it started to hurt. I tried to pull my arm back, but he was using teeth. Almost chewing. It really hurt, and, Near's body be damned, I slapped at him, to get him away.

He bit down, and I actually punched him across the face, and he moaned into my bleeding hand and looked even more debauched with the red mark turning purple_- like his eyes should be_- added to his sweaty bangs and writhing, naked limbs.

He looked at me, and I looked back at him, and he was small, and pale, and fragile looking, but I was scared. I was so scared I thought I might do something humiliating, like cry and hide under the covers. Some of the blood spilled out of his mouth onto his lips, and he smiled around my finger, and there was a little foam where he breathed through his teeth and my blood actually bubbled up. And then he bit down, and I felt bone crush, and then there was a stump that I snatched back, but the rest didn't come with it.

It hurt, and it felt irreversible_- you can reattach a severed finger (but it wasn't severed, it was crushed) and I needed to get ice right now and put the finger in a bag and CALL NINE NINE NINE (in Italy, it's ONE ONE TWO, Matty actually practiced saying it, like a little kid, I thought and I laughed at him while he repeated it thirty times) don't let the finger make direct contact with the ice_- and it hurt and fuck, I was bleeding, I was bleeding, and didn't this actually feel kind of familiar? Had I ever lost a finger before? No, that was stupid, I would have remembered. But I could remember the shock of flesh separating, and hanging off, and then completely torn away and wow, that horror movie looking mess was attached to me.

And then Near's tongue pushed the finger out of his mouth, and instinctively, I reached out to snatch for it, but I pulled my hand back before I could reach it, because fuck, I was scared, I was scared to put my hand anywhere near him when he was still smiling with his bloody teeth at me.

Suddenly he looked worried. I cringed at the change in his expression, and registered that, yes, I, Mello was terrified of that five foot tall boy in a hysterical, panicked way I'd never been scared.

"Mello?" It hurt so much I thought I might throw up. I held it back only because I didn't want to make him angry again. "Mello, are you okay?" What the fuck? "Mello! Mello, wake up. Mello!"

My eyes snapped open. Matt was standing over me. I sat up so quickly, it made me nauseous, though some of the nausea was actually the pain that still seemed to be lingering from my dream, and Matt, bless him, had a plastic trash can by his side which I grabbed and threw up into.

When I pulled my head back up, my eyeballs hurt from the pressure, and there were tears in my eyes, and _my finger still hurt_.

I stared at my hand, which was bandaged up. I needed to see it. I needed to see that it wasn't as bad as it had looked in my dream, all chewed, with bits dangling off.

I started unwrapping it.

"Mello, don't do that." I ignored him. I was down to my hand, and I had five fingers, but one was short, only up to the first joint. I tried to peel off the last bandage to see it, but Matt closed his hand over mine. I punched him in the shoulder, and caught him by surprise. He fell over with a grunting noise, and I ripped away the last bit, which I instantly regretted as blood started to flow to the area, and as shut off as my nerves had been before, I was _definitely_ feeling it now. And then I really looked at it for the first time.

It wasn't a mess of shredded flesh like I'd thought it would be, but it was disgusting. It was like a small bowl at the end, curving down into the middle. The white of the joint was clearly visible, and the flesh around it looked like meat, all carved up and neat. Where the meat turned into skin, it was shriveled, and a little wrinkled. I looked like meat. Fucking carved up bits of not-human, like in a motherfucking store.

By the time Matt sat back up, I was throwing up again, until my throat felt raw and sore from the gagging and the bile.

"Told you not to do that." I dry-heaved into the bin, and once I grasped the concept that there was nothing left for me to throw up, I decided that I maybe didn't want to be facing the pool of my own vomit and leaned back to wipe my mouth on a wet washcloth Matt handed me.

At Whammy's, the nurses brought the same things with such consistency, we'd started to call the washcloths and toothbrush/toothpaste set they'd brought a "Puke Combo". I waited for Matt to give me a toothbrush so I could get the flavor out of my mouth, but when I glared at him, he only shrugged apologetically.

I tried to yank the little cap shaped bit of bandage back over the stump, but it hurt so badly that I almost passed out again against the wall. I looked inside of it and saw little bits of me; mostly scab, but there was some yellowish slime and a tiny glob of flesh. Matt was already picking up the bandage that had covered the rest of my hand to rewrap it. I let him. He muttered something about alcohol or something. I nodded and let him handle the stump until it was neatly tucked away again. What else could I do?

Matt's POV

"He should have left some rubbing alcohol or something. Don't want it to get infected. Not that anyone expected you to tear it open like that." I went for a disapproving tone, but he nodded absently and continued to give the wall a vacant stare.

"Mello?" He nodded again, but it was a yeah-I-agree nod, not a what-is-it? nod. Still, can't fault a guy for being out of it when he just lost a finger. He'd acted a bit like this after the burns, but he was unconscious for so much of it, I was able to blame the drugs for a lot of it. And the really bad burns he couldn't feel at all. "Mello!"

His eyes snapped towards me, but he still looked off.

"Matt." He sounded urgent.

"What is it?"

"D'you think Near's loud in bed?"

"_What_?"

"It'd be weird if he talked dirty, huh?"

"Mel, can we talk about _anything_ else?" His pupils dilated and expanded as he focused on me.

"Right. How's your…thing?"

"What?"

"Electric telegraph. You said you were trying to be able to call a specific number." Oh, yeah, that.

"Sorry, man, you were only gone for half an hour or so. I didn't get any more of it done."

"Alright, well, nothing I can help you with there. Try and work on it some more. I'm gonna look stupid enough without this finger. I don't want to lose another one." He flashed me a weak smile, which I returned. "I'm gonna sleep." He leaned back against the wall, but his eyes stayed open. I moved over towards the patch of carpet and yanked it up to start fiddling with my telegraph. When I looked back over at him, his eyes were still open.

"I thought you were gonna sleep?" He summoned up the energy to manage a glare.

"I didn't say that. I said I was gonna rest. S'different."

"Alriiight."

"Just work on the telegraph." I turned back to it. I think we both knew how unlikely it was that anything would come from it. The only reason we were trying was because what else could we do? Instead of sitting here, trapped and useless, we chose to sit here, trapped and futilely making little efforts. When they caught us, maybe they'd take one of my fingers too. It was really only a matter of time.

Near's POV

Someone knocked twice on the door, in the crisp, professional manner I prefer. I had fallen asleep on top of my blankets, so it was only a matter of sitting up before I called,

"Come in." Three pairs of shoes marched into the room, and one pair scraped and shuffled. The training I'd put all of my employees under stood out in sharp contrast to the usual, messy manner of life so many people were comfortable with.

"There he is."

"Thank you, Mister…?"

"You can call me Sol. Short for Solomon, but that's not my real name either, so…"More shuffling movements, which I very nearly made some gesture of irritation towards. Fortunately, I maintained my self control and did not need to go into any self-analysis out of the fear that Mello was rubbing off on me.

It was only when the dragging of sneakers against carpet had turned to the squeak of the stairs that Agent Rester spoke up.

"Sir, you said there was a case. Why haven't you rented an office building? Who are these people?"

"Associates." As always, I gave him as much information as was needed to put the block of propriety in the way of any more questions without actually answering him.

"And will these associates be helping with the case?"

"No." There was a silence that was most likely awkward for them, but beyond the wish to have something to occupy my hands, I was content to wait for the next question. It was Agent Lidner who finally asked.

"Where are the case files, sir?"

"This case is personal." I longed for my sight, if only to see the eyebrows undoubtedly raised at the admittance of having anything personal. Certainly I valued my property, but everything- including my employees- was replaceable. The only reason I'd kept these three for so long was because they had not yet died, or failed me. "Since it is not an official case, there are, as of yet, no files. We are dealing with a mafia related kidnapping, and our only goal is to recover the two victims. No unnecessary arrests, as I do not wish to deal with any paperwork regarding this particular case." Halle again, deemed herself important enough to venture the question,

"And who are the victims?"

"You remember Matt and Mello? If only one can be recovered, save Mello."

"I- I see." After the somewhat uncharacteristic stumble over the words, Agent Lidner returned with full professionalism. "I assume you will be briefing us on the situation, then?"

"That is correct." I explained as thoroughly as I could the situation Mello and Matt had found themselves in. I did not disclose either my blindness, or my relationship with Mello, as both were irrelevant, and would cause unneeded questions regarding my own professionalism regarding the matter. Which was ridiculous. I had full intentions of treating this as any other case. The only exception was that the importance of Mello's survival over all else, even Matt, was the fact that he and I were involved, but while actually working the case, I would not allow that to reflect in my actions.

It was with this lack of sentimentality that I agreed to move bases. I trusted the three of them to select the kind of facilities I was accustomed to, efficiently, and with minimal fuss. I showed the three of them to the door, more to prove nothing was wrong than out of etiquette. On the eighth step up to the second floor, I received a flash of sight which I actually rewarded with an inaudible sigh of relief. Things were infinitely easier when I could work to my full abilities. I may have come close to that level of competence if I had confided in my employees, but confiding was not in my nature, and if I was guilty of consistently having any human foible, it was pride.

Enough that I was already treated as though I were sheltered- which I was- or a child- which I was not. I made the choice when I was very young to be L, and L did not have any of the weaknesses I may have allowed myself, if not for the title. Even those were very few. I returned to my room in the hopes that my sight would return in a timely manner, and that by the time my new base was selected, I would be able to see it.

In the human moment I allowed myself, I wondered if I could truly save Mello. I had never cared enough either way to doubt myself before.

I wondered why I cared so much.

I wondered which finger Mello would lose next.


	21. Plotting

_**A/N: Well damn. Sorry for the wait. I've been….colleging. Lots and lots and lots of work for school. For the first time in my life, I'm a straight A student. Be proud. And then smack me for setting such a high standard for myself that now my teachers expect it. **_

_**Dear lord.**_

_**Anyways, my birthday was September 16**__**th**__**, so maybe as a belated birthday gift, you give me a free pass and review instead of yelling at me for taking forever to update. I was gonna update with a 10,000 word chapter, but then I decided you'd rather get what I have then wait. So I'll be updating at least once more this week. And regularly after that. By the way, the review response to last chapter was utterly fantastic. If you guys could just…keep doing that, I will be sure to favor this fic above all others and shower you in updates. **_

_**Warnings: None! No sex, no gore. I'm sure all you lighthearted folks out there are breathing a sigh of relief. I know I've been hard on you lately. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

It took two hours for my sight to return, and three and a half hours for my agents to return with a suitable new location. It had only been at my own request that none of them had stayed with me, and I could tell they were uncomfortable with the idea of my spending any more time at the admittedly dangerous-looking safe house Mello lived in than was strictly necessary.

For me, packing was mostly an issue of replacing my toys into my suitcases, and stuffing my three spare pajama sets and toothbrush into my backpack. To avoid socializing, I waited until I got the confirmation text from Rester to walk downstairs, but all of my careful planning was in vain. The idiot- excuse me, _Flavio_- decided to impose his company upon me the moment I went downstairs. I believe he said something about a monster; admittedly, I was not paying much attention.

Lidner opened the front door without knocking, and from the expression on her face, I could see that it had been a deliberate maneuver on her part to prove to Mello's associates that she was superior. Not above those sort of mind games, I reprimanded her, to prove to Lidner that she was not.

"It is traditional to knock, Lidner."

"Sorry, sir." She replied, with only a quirk in her lips betraying her irritation at having had her behavior berated. I gestured to my suitcases, and Gevanni and Rester began walking towards them as I began walking out, feeling it would be unnecessary to make an exiting statement. Anya, apparently, disagreed.

"Goodbye, Near! Take care of yourself!" She then proceeded to violate my personal space by flinging her arms around me. She froze around me, most likely because of the four guns pointed at her. It would have been six, however, Gevanni and Rester each had one hand occupied with my belongings. I waved them away impatiently, and waited for her to remove herself.

"Sir?"

"Miss Malay does not mean any harm to me." Unless, of course, she were to break my ribs, in her pointless farewell gesture. Rester actually snorted at me, which prompted a somewhat undignified wriggling maneuver so I could turn in Anya's arms and stare him down properly.

"Sorry sir. It's just…you keep saying that."

"Well, I must be a better judge of intent than my predecessor, as I am alive, and he is dead. You would do well to remember that."

"Of course, sir." I glared at the quirk in his lips before I allowed the moment to pass. At last, Anya disattached herself from me, and I was able to proceed.

Someone cleared their throat behind me as I got the first foot out of the door, and I suppressed another eye roll as I turned. Was the world conspiring against me? I would think I hadn't been sufficiently harmful to warrant such a response. Maybe the world was conspiring against Mello. He probably fully deserved any retaliation the universe might dole out for its own safety. I looked at the culprit, and discovered large red and yellow eyeballs, disconcertingly close to my face. Close enough that one would need to be floating to achieve the desired angle.

To avoid looking insane, I raised my eyebrows instead of voicing a query.

"I know where Mello is." I immediately lost any semblance of the normalcy I had maintained by not speaking to the air.

"I forgot something in my room." I announced, and walked back towards the room I had used.

"I'll get it, sir." Must my subordinates always be helpful at the least helpful moments?

"No, I will retrieve the item."

"Hyuk, hyuk. You're makin it sound like one of those magazines. They'll think you're looking at PORN!" My face remained perfectly impassive until the door shut behind me.

"Although it would not be an unreasonable guess considering my age, my associates tend to assume I am sexless. They probably believe I am completing an old puzzle."

"No fun!" Ryuk blew a raspberry at me, and rolled in the air, seemingly content to wait out my patience. He was not kept waiting for long.

"Well? Where is Mello?"

"What will you give me if I tell?"

"Apples, of course, are always available to you. Alternatively, if you do not, I will dedicate my life to finding a way to destroy you." Ryuk's mouth dropped open in shock, and a grape fell out. Since I hadn't seen him insert the grape at any point, I had to wonder how long it'd been in there.

"Whoa. You know, if you did that, I'd have to write your name down."

"You have suggested that my ability to be entertaining is dependent on Mello's presence."

"You genius types are always so cruel!"

"Are we?"

"Yeah." He picked the grape up from the floor and popped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. "It's a problem, really. You all might end up destroying the world and it's only even five of you playing your game. Three, now. You'll tear apart this world." He looked slightly admiring.

"Two." Matt would not be a factor.

"Three." Right. Well.

"Mello's address?"

"Give me something nice!"

"Would you like a pet? I would be willing to host a dog, if you'd like to train one. If you do well, perhaps we can re-open the baby discussion." I had absolutely no intentions of allowing the Shinigami a baby, however, at times it is best to appear open to options one would never seriously consider. Mello would call it misleading. I am not so much in denial, and can call it deception. Lying.

"Yes! Yes! A puppy and a baby! And more of you and blondie!"

"If we have a deal, then give me his address now."

"Fine. Got a pen? I memorized how the door numbers looked."

When I returned, I was clutching a sticky note with an address scrawled on it, in his oddly stylistic handwriting. On the way downstairs, I wondered if Shinigami were born learning how to write, or if there were schools in their realm. Questions for later.

"Gevanni, visiting the new office will have to wait. I have an address."

"How the fuck did you…" I heard the yelling trail off as Anya ran up to the bedroom, most likely to see what it was that had given me the information. I would need to consider pockets, so that people could at least consider the possibility that I was concealing something in them. A cell phone, in this scenario. Or a weapon, and I could get shot for being a potential threat. Suddenly, I was reminded of the reasons behind my choice in wardrobe.

"You have to let us come with you."

"No. Excuse me." Gevanni was pulling at my arm, so I turned to see what it was that had incited him to neglect his usual observance of my personal space.

"That wasn't in your handwriting." He stared at me, as if he could find the truth in my eyes. I stared back, because I knew he could not.

"No." My employees didn't know that I knew about their trick of biting their tongues inside of their mouths in order to appear impassive when they were deeply frustrated with me. I watched the flexing of his tongue through his throat, and when it stilled, I said, "Gevanni, the preparations." He made a jerky bow towards me, and turned away. This time, instead of watching his throat, I watched his shoes; I had suspected for about two months at this point that they also clenched their toes in their shoes.

As expected, the leather crinkled a little, suggesting movement. Another case solved by N. Who would N have been if L hadn't died? Who would N be if Mello died? With Kira, we were our own little section of the alphabet, those of us playing the game. K, L, M, N. Matt halted the pattern, which bothered the part of me that was soothed by patterns. He should have been named Oliver. Oakley. Obediah. Octavian.

I noticed with some disgust that my thoughts were wandering. I was…agitated. How inconvenient. Without the gift of sociopathy, it was no small wonder that most never succeeded to the level that L and I did.

"Why the fuck can't we come? He's our boss!" Oh, they were still on about that?

"Because taking you would be considerably more difficult than leaving you behind. As it is, I can do anything, and the law will support me. Taking you brings an unnecessary risk, as I would consequently become unable to utilize my resources which are much more considerable than yours. Does that answer your question sufficiently, or would you prefer to spend further time exploring my reasons while Mello loses another finger?"

"You're just gonna call the cops?" He scoffed. My eyes narrowed, imperceptibly. I considered gritting my teeth, but refrained, because tooth destruction would be inconvenient later in life. How fascinating, to gain a firsthand experience regarding the effects of emotional stress during a case! These wanderings of the mind were frustrating, and yet the clarity of thought: unparalleled. "We're highly trained, armed, and not afraid to use it."

"Actually, I was planning to commandeer the police. They're armed, higher in quantity, and disposable."

"But-"

"And I will _make _them afraid not to use deadly force. Thank you for your consideration."

"But-"

"Is your question important enough to save Mello's life?"

"Well, I-"

"Because my time is. Come." My employees created their usual formation around me, which was comforting, in that it was a small space and separated from the distractions around me. _Mello._

The walls of dedicated subordinates were replaced by the frame of the car around me.

"Where to, sir?"

"Locate the nearest police station, and inform the officers that they will be aiding L in a raid."

Matt's POV

"Matt."

"Yeah?"

"I heard people outside of the room. When he cut off my finger." The words were enunciated too perfectly, and for the first time in my life, I wondered if Mello had been worried his voice would tremble. Social genius that I am, I was totally smooth and came out with an eloquent answer. Not.

"Mmm?"

"Did you hear?"

"Him cut off your-"

"No, dumbass, did you hear people outside of your door. It's very important."

"Nah, they all went to watch, the vultures." More than once, I had deliberately watched a gory scene, so I could better critique the effects in my games. I just let the hypocrisy slide off my back. "Even my guard chained me to the damn floor so he could see."

"What were they, keyhole peeking or something? There wasn't even a two-way in that room. Fucking-" Mello broke off and glared at the wall, as if _it_ were also spying on him. "Yeah, well, if they do it again, break your chain and get out."

"Mello, they left me behind with only a chain because it would be incredibly stupid for me to do that." His eyes flashed. Mello doesn't like being called stupid. "If I left, they'd still have you, and they'd be-"

"What? Would they not be nice anymore? Because I'm fucking done-" Again he stopped to glare at the wall, and presumably calm himself.

"Do it. And tell…tell Near where I am."

"You want me to tell…" I trailed off. I could see from the fury in his expression that it wasn't a decision he made lightly. He would act on a plan that made him, in his mind, look inferior to Near. For me. My heart swelled with goodwill towards Mello, and the sign that he really cared. I felt as though I should say something to acknowledge what he was doing for me.

"When you go all slack-jawed like that, you look almost as dumb as you sound. Shut it."

"Um."

"And piss off. I've gotta get some sleep, since they'll probably torture me again. You know, after they're done torturing me the first time, and then find out you've escaped."

"Um,"

"Piss. Off." I shrugged. Damn. He must have been desperate, to put himself up for torture and depend on Near to get him out before he died, or I dunno. Something Mello would consider worse than dying. Like, not getting chocolate for longer than a few hours, while he waited for Near. Heh. Yeah, I know my sense of humor is nonexistent. Something about all the torture and death.

I curled up next to the wall to sleep. Despite all the warm fuzzies from the Mello-style declaration of giving a shit, it was still damn cold, and I wished he'd stop being such a cold bitch about it, and let us sleep next to each other. Seriously. I would say he was overcompensating, but he had come out as gay, so it wasn't like he was withholding his passionate urges or anything. Hey, before I discovered porn, I read like, a shelf of romantic novels. But noooo, Mello is too badass to feel anything like cold, or loneliness. The more he wanted it, the more he pushed it away. Ergo, the "piss off" from before. Asshole. My asshole, though, so I had to love it.

Snickering at the sentence that had passed through my mind, I curled into an even tighter ball, and engulfed in my own body heat, started to fall asleep.

Mello's POV

I might or might not have insinuated that Matt's survival was a priority.

Obviously, it was only because I was confidant in my ability to take a blow, or even lose a finger (I winced) without coming completely undone. Matty's all soft. I mean, mentally. He's got this thing about his eyeballs, fingernails and ears. He's scared that something will go in his earhole too far and touch his brain.

Talk about irrational. Mind you, he took the same med classes I did. He has a degree. Scary, isn't it?

And he doesn't want his fingernails to come off. Torture 101, and he's scared to even pry the lid off of some tech with his nails because he thinks they'll pop off like he's some sort of deconstructable toy.

The eye thing…well, I guess that's a universal fear. Getting something lodged in it. Seriously, though, I pinned him down once, to try and force him to wear some colored contacts, and he actually cried, and started begging, and telling me secrets about people I didn't even know. Tickling him produced similar results.

So I never got to see what he'd look like with green eyes, but I did end up with the knowledge that Matty doesn't do well in those kinds of situations. I have valuable secrets he's keeping for me. So does the government, although they don't know he reads through their stuff. Ask which government, and he'll just smile.

Seriously, there's too much important information in his overly mushy head. Again: scary, isn't it? The information needed to topple the world is a tickle attack away from being public knowledge.

So anyways, I was staying awake—a little cold, but I couldn't very well get all cuddly with Matt _now_—and trying to make a logical argument to myself that I was in possession of two balls, and therefore could not be turning into the braindead teen girl all of my recent actions were suggesting.

I would've probably done the same thing before, but knowing that I'd do it now for Near too…made me question ho w far from watching CareBears and wearing makeup I was. God.

God!

Comforted in the knowledge that at least God would guide events as He saw fit, I started my prayers for the night. As my fingers worked around my rosary beads, I started to drift off. Fighting sleep to finish, I had just finished the very last bead when I heard gunshots.

Wide-eyed, I looked down at my rosary. Then I patted it, fondly. Nice.

If He was going to intervene with a timely raid, who was I to waste time? Matt, who was used to sleeping through the hum of monitors and video-games left half completed, was still humming in his sleep. Sounds endearing, doesn't it? Well, it's not. It's bloody annoying. I shook him, hard.

"Get up. Raid. We're going to escape. Bring your thingie."

"I told you my electronic telegraph doesn't work yet."

"To bash in heads, until we can get a gun."

"Oh." He retrieved it, while I worked at our chains. Chains, mind you. Like a PLEASE ESCAPE sign, when it wasn't reinforced by about a dozen guards.

"Don't bite your tongue."

"Wha- Ow, fuck! Fuuuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Did you break it?"

"No, just dislocated, so I could bend it right. Don't bite your tongue."

"Don't you- OW!" He hissed, long and hard, through his teeth.

"See? Good as new."

"Really? 'Cause it still feels like my ankle is broken."

"That's only pain. You can walk on it without collapsing." He looked utterly pathetic limping, and I decided to attribute it to the sudden development of a dramatic side, instead of wasting time I needed being concerned. Sound heartless? Well, I didn't want either of us to get shot.

Through the walls, I heard something more beautiful than I had ever heard in my life.

"The number is delta…" The voice faded out, but it was clearly the voice of a police officer's radio. Which meant we just had to sit and look like sad little victims. Which Matt had down, with the whole ankle-not-slender-enough-to-escape thing. Wimp.

More gunshots, and then about five minutes of shuffling, which became gradually more purposeful until it was clearly an organized search party. But who would they be searching for? None of mine would dare call the police.

"Mello?"

I knew that voice.

"Mello?"

The door handle turned, and suddenly, I dreaded it. I couldn't stand if it was him. Collecting me, like I was a pet. Damn.

Near opened the door, looking like a sacrificial lamb, with all the cops hulking in formation around him. His subordinates discreetly trailed behind. I could see the edge of a corpse; one of our captors.

"Hello, Mello."

"God damn it."

_**Please review. I solemnly swear you'll **_**never **_**wait that long for an update again. But encouragement always helps.**_


	22. In which Mello is justifiably angry

Near's POV

"When Mello wakes up, he's going to kill you." I looked at Matt, and suddenly understood the urge to use the phrase, 'duh.' Instead, I replied,

"He will try. Fortunately, I have restrained him."

"When Mello wakes up and realizes you've tied him up, he's going to kill you, clone you, and kill your clone." Well, that was an imperfect method of illustrating the magnitude of Mello's anger.

"That's not how biology works, Matt. My clone would not be responsible for, or even aware of any of my crimes." He rolled his eyes at my logic and exited. I sat down at the provided computer.

And stared at it.

Having spent a period of time doing my work as quickly as possible, and engaging in other activities, it felt strange to offer a computer my full focus once more. Well, in theory, I could continue working as efficiently as possible and work through all of my cases. And then. . . well, then there would be more cases. I had grown surprisingly used to not having free time.

When I turned on my screen, I was surprised to find the surveillance cameras in Mello's room opened. Ah, Lidner had done that for me.

So instead of staring at charts, I stared at Mello. It was not strange, I suppose, that he had taken such an extreme role in my life. The amount of proximity alone made it normal that he would affect me somehow. Still, it was unprecedented. I had no paternal relationship, and my mother had fulfilled her duty in keeping me alive for the barest of moments before she passed. If I had a brother, I was unaware of it.

Only Mello.

So the feeling when I knew that Mello had been taken was not empirically definable. It was comparable to the sound of nails on chalkboard; a sensation of extreme discomfort that might have been fear or panic. Might have been. The frustrating thing was that I didn't know! What was I to do with attachment when I had no prior attachment to compare it to?

Not only did it make me extremely vulnerable to wrap myself up into a single human being, but some force of the universe (probably Mello's god, the sadistic old-testament based construction) had decided I should make the fool choice of attaching myself to one of the most likely to die human beings on the planet.

I knew it was irrational to want to keep Mello tied to the bed, where he would be safe. Bed sores and insanity would set in. I wanted him to not put himself in danger, because he was precious enough to me that I wanted to protect him beyond the extent that I could trust him to protect himself.

And also because once he was untied, he would most likely kill me, clone me, and kill my clone as well.

Mello's POV

When I woke up, I didn't know where I was, what had happened or what was going on.

I only knew that I wanted to kill Near.

It wasn't the first time I'd woken up feeling this way, so I waited for my mind to clear so I could understand where these feelings were coming from. The room came into focus, and my memories came back in a rush.

Oh.

The next thing I felt was pain across my chest, wrists and ankles, as I tried to shoot up straight in bed and forgot that I'd probably been restrained.

Intolerably deep frustration rose up in my chest and built itself, rising higher and higher. It was anger, now, wrath and fury, and the explosion had been nothing like the inferno of incomprehensible rage that pounded in my head until I could actually see a red mist obstructing my vision.

"Near." I said experimentally, and my lips were cracked and my throat was dry from getting my water through a tube for the last however long. Then I took the deepest breath I could.

"NEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!" I screamed, and halfway through it didn't sound like his name anymore, it was filled with so much rage. I sounded like I was screaming just for the sake of screaming, and because my entire body was filled with the tension of my hate, I kept screaming just for the release of it.

It was a long time before Near entered the room, but at least he came alone, which was good because I didn't think I could get angrier and if he'd pulled some sort of power play by bringing in some hulking guard I might have exploded my own heart.

He didn't say anything when he entered, but I'd worn out my voice about an hour ago, and kept screaming after that. I refused to begin things by sounding weak. Finally he spoke.

"You're bleeding. May I touch you?" He held up a first aid kit.

"Fine." I rasped. I needed him to come closer. He released my left wrist, but I was still tied higher up on my forearm, so all I could do was make clawing motions at him, which I did.

Blood was streaked all over my hands and halfway up my forearm from the blood on my wrist. I'd been pulling at the restraints for hours, screaming, and trying to claw my way out. He finished cleaning the blood off, and started dabbing the raw bits with something that sizzled, but didn't burn. Hydrogen peroxide, probably. When he put the cool Neosporin over that and started bandaging me in long white cotton strips, it felt cool against the rage that had actually made my skin burn with slight fever. I resolved to let him finish bandaging me before I did anything.

He cleaned my other wrist, and didn't look at me, although I glared at him, and willed my hatred to reverberate through the air between us and hurt him. He put a new restraint on my neck before he undid my chest, so I couldn't jump up. Was he really that scared? When I realized I was wondering that at the same time as I waited for an opportunity to snap at his fingers, I conceded that the restraints were a practical decision.

And frustratingly effective at that. But the cool against my chest felt good, and then he went to the bathroom for a damp washcloth for my head, and it was irritating that he'd waited for my energy to burn itself out, before he came in, acting all nonconfrontational so I couldn't _hate_ at him like I wanted to.

He was on my leg when he finally started talking.

"Why are you angry? Matt and you are both unharmed."

And then my fury was back in a hot rush that even the washcloth on my head didn't help. I actually spluttered at him, because words couldn't express the sheer depth of my hate.

I screamed again, but it was much less effective when I couldn't raise my voice above a whisper, so I coiled the slightest bit of movement I had in my leg and shot it out, kicking Near in the chest.

Only hard enough to knock him back. I was weak.

He hit his head on the ground, though, and got up wheezing and clutching at the back of his head.

He squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain, and then breathed it out, letting the tension drain from his body. Then he opened his eyes, and I saw that one of his contacts was dislodged. Purple and black overlapped in a weird double iris pattern. I jumped a little, startled, and realized that the leg I'd kicked had also managed to get free.

I waited for Near to come close again. This time I didn't bother to look harmless. I bared my teeth at him and pulled up my leg, ready to kick.

Near closed the blinds, and the room got gray-dark. He went to the bathroom, and came back without his contacts on.

He pulled a chair up to the left of my head, where I couldn't reach him with my leg, and sat on it.

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm _angry_," the word came out even quieter, when I tried to emphasize it, and my thin voice broke, "because you just destroyed my entire life. Everything I've built."

"I don't understand." Of course he didn't. "Matt told me you had planned to send him for my help. Does it bother you that you had no part in your own rescue?"

"Do you think I'm that petty?" He considered the question seriously, and finally said,

"Sometimes."

"Untie my hand. I need my rosary."

"No."

"I swear to God that I won't do anything but use my rosary if you untie my hand."

"Use your rosary to pray. Clarify." Damn.

"I swear to God that I won't do anything but use my rosary for prayer if you untie my hand." He did, the one without all of its fingers. My hand twitched as the blood flowed back in, and he moved back, but I just grabbed my necklace, watching him.

"If Matt had gotten to you, he would have organized my team with your resources to rescue me."

"You are upset that your team wasn't involved."

"You brought the police. You knocked out the entire hideout and took me and Matt into what appears to be police custody."

"You aren't in police custody."

"Government custody, then. That's even worse."

"I'm not the government."

"Oh, yes, and if I say that they'll just-" I started coughing, and it Near brought me a sponge and a bowl of water from the bathroom. I sucked the water from the sponge three times before I could talk again, but by then the sarcastic comment was gone, and I finished bitterly. "I can't waltz out of custody- any type of custody- and just _swear_ that it wasn't government custody. We aren't even supposed to have relatives or friends in the government. How do I explain why I was important enough for a police station to mobilize and break every rule in the book to save me? I look like a traitor. Everyone in my unit has probably been killed." I was spinning the beads.

"I will send my subordinates to retrieve them." I let him go, because between honor and life, most of them would probably choose to live.

"None of us can ever return."

"There are other things you can do. You were never suited to the mafia to begin with. It was a waste. You know that. You had only stayed out of a lack of anything else to do. Now you can help me with cases. We can be L together, like we were supposed to-" He stopped at the rasping noises that came from me trying to shout at him. "Breathe, Mello, and then talk." I did, although I glared at him while I did it.

"I am not your fucking pet! Do you understand?"

"I didn't propose that you-"

"No, Near, you didn't. But you sure as hell didn't give me any choice, either! Did it even occur to you to use my men? I can't imagine that they didn't ask!" He looked guilty, and it was all the proof I needed. "But that was fine, because you aren't worried about my career, or even really about if it's appropriate. You're worried about if what you want happens, and it did. Good job, Near. I don't have a life anymore. I hope you're fucking happy. Untie me now."

"You'll hurt me." I snorted.

"Hurt you? I don't even want to touch you." I meant it too. I was so god damn disgusted, and sick, and that feeling that came after anger that hadn't been properly satisfied. He untied me, and I sat up. When I swayed from the movement of blood, he reached out to steady me, and I jerked away from his hand.

The look of shock on his face was completely uncensored.

Then it went away.

"I understand." He said, and left. I would have left too, but I didn't have anywhere to fucking go anymore.

Matt's POV

Near passed me in the hall, so I stood in his way.

"Where's Mello?" He looked up at me, and his face was. . . upset. Well, mildly distressed, but for Near that was pretty huge.

"Farther down the hall. You can go in now, if you'd like." I raised my hands.

"No way. If I go in there while he's tied up, he'll kill me later for not untying him."

"I removed his restraints."

"You did? Personally?"

"Yes." I checked him for bruises, but already knew what I would find. Honestly, if Mello had attacked him, he wouldn't be walking out.

"And he didn't kill you?"

"I believe he was too angry to make an attempt. His exact words were 'Hurt you? I don't even want to touch you.'" I whistled through my teeth.

"So he's angry."

"Come." Like a dog. Like a fucking dog. I was always being treated like somebody's bitch. Tail between my legs, I followed. Only because I was curious.

We went back to the computer room which would have made me drool if it wasn't set up all irrationally. It was very neat, and all the computers were arranged in rows besides the wall screen up front, which meant that you couldn't just grab the computer you needed when you needed it. I'm all for messy rooms with laptops scattered everywhere.

He tapped away at the computer he'd been at before, and surveillance footage of Mello sitting on a bed with his head in his hands popped up. Near started rewinding, and I watched him speed backwards into the room, tie Mello up, lie on the floor, fly into Mello's foot (I raised my eyebrows at him. He was impassive, as always), remove bandages from Mello's arms and legs, take a sponge from Mello's lips and put it in the bathroom, and he was gone from the room. What followed was what must have been hours of Mello screaming and pulling up at his bonds.

Near pressed play, and the sound filled the room, and it was horrible.

Men. . . usually don't scream. I've heard Mello yell- often- and raise his voice, and even yelp when someone surprised him, but here he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Mello may never pardon me."

"What?"

"He was correct. I was arrogant. I should have. . . considered doing things Mello's way, no matter how illogical, because I was acting within Mello's world, and the consequences have fallen on Mello."

"'Cause you made him break the Law? He'll be furious, but he didn't really want to be there in the first place."

"Because I took away his freedom. He can either join me or begin an entirely new life. He said I was making him my _pet." _He spat the word out.

To be honest, I've never understood Mello. Half the time, the reason he loses is because he turns things into a black and white, I-win-you-lose scenario, and it gets turned on its head because no one can be one hundred percent right, one hundred percent of the time. Every single argument, he defends as though it is an attack on his character. He makes himself a loser, by creating situations in which someone has to lose.

I don't really have morals, or values, or- hell- deep seated beliefs, so I use a more Rogerian style of argument. And behold, guess which one of us has a complicated nemesis relationship?

Mello was being an idiot. Deep down, he wanted to be here anyways. But he was so obsessed with this idea of not losing that he was making himself lose. A pet? Everyone here knew that he and Near would be equals, even though they would argue at every turn. This would have happened eventually anyways; he was only angry to have lost control over how it happened.

Mello was still screaming silently on the video, so I reached past Near and stopped the video. I didn't want to watch it anymore.

Near's POV

I believe the name for the emotion I was feeling was regret. If I could have gone back in time, I would not have repeated my actions, no matter how logical, practical, and sound they had been. What a pointless emotion.

I heard the beep of someone entering the building downstairs, and watched my subordinates bring in three of Mello's underlings.

And a body.

Dread suffused my being. I had never been fearful of Mello's wrath before, but I had always had reasonable doubt that he would actually kill me. I rushed downstairs, actually skidding slightly on the linoleum floor in my socks, before I realized that I could have zoomed in on the body's face with my camera. Now closer to the body than to the camera, I arrived downstairs, and pushed the jacket back from the face.

It was Flavio. I was 78 percent certain that Mello did not like Flavio, so I sighed in relief.

"Gevanni, inform Mello of Flavio's death. Rester, make sure each member of Mello's team has a room, and set the body in the back room. Lidner, please buy a Ouija board, go to a pet store, and ask the board which puppy it would like."

"Sir? A. . . Ouija bourd?"

"Do it, Lidner."

"Yes, sir." I felt a dead, shrunken hand pat my head.

"Thanks! We're gonna have awesome times with my dog!"

"Lidner," I felt compelled to add, "please avoid dogs known for their aggressiveness."

"Of. . .of course, sir." She stopped again. "Even if the Ouija board insists?" I felt a small rush of gratitude, for having aides who knew better than to question me.

"The Ouija board won't." I looked at Ryuk, who pouted. Even objectively, the expression could be considered terrifying on his face.

"Yessir." Lidner was gone, with the Shinigami trailing behind her.

Anya Malay refused to follow Rester to her room. While her perceived connection to me had been briefly endearing when I thought I was leaving her forever, it was extremely irritating now that it would be something I'd have to live with.

"What?" I asked, preemptively.

"Is Mello dead?" Obviously not. I had mentioned him before.

"No, he is not."

"I- I don't. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Did she think me completely incompetent?

"Why were you relieved when Flavio was dead?"

"Mello cares for the rest of you more than he cares for Flavio. I am currently. . . he is angry at me."

"Near, you don't understand." I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. What else had I missed? "He'll be more upset about Flavio dying than all of the rest of us combined."

"Was I mistaken? He appeared to dislike-"

"It doesn't matter that he dislikes him! He is the Boss's son. Before, Don Pitre would probably have let Mello slip out. He could not have returned, if you used the police to rescue him, but he would have been given the chance to live his life, as a favor for all he's done. Now, the Don has no choice. He will have to send men until Mello dies or he has no men left to send. It is for honor, now."

"Surely he knows that Mello alone can outwit him. I am superior to Mello. Matt could bring down his entire faction in moments. Would he really die for honor?" Anya looked at me with widened eyes, as if _I_ was the one being unreasonable.

"Of course!" Well, that was unfortunate. I really hadn't entered the situation intending to wage a war against the mafia.

"Gevanni, please don't inform Mello about the death, yet." There was a sheepish silence, and I predicted his words before they came.

"I, uh, sorry sir. I already have."

"Is he still there?"

"No. I hadn't anticipated that you removed his restraints. He ran out of the-" Mello knocked me over, and I didn't hear Gevanni's last words. I could make an extremely educated guess about what they would have been, though.

I was pinned to the ground.

"Near." His voice was calm, and my pulse picked up past the point that exertion alone should have pushed it. "What have you done?" he shifted, putting pressure on the bruise he'd given me before. I hadn't had to deal with consecutive physical attacks since. . . well, school, and those had been Mello as well. I made my voice calm as well.

"Anya was just informing me. Apparently, I've created a feud between you and your ex-faction of the mafia." His face twisted, and then smoothed back over into the simmering calm. Perhaps I should have been less direct with my answer.

"Yes, Near. Very good. Do you know what that means?"

"Please enlighten me."

"It means that people are going to come, with guns, and explosives, and the willingness to die in order to see me dead."

"Technically, it was I who-"

"But I am the traitor, Near! They're going to come, and I hope they kill you." This crossed a line that I wasn't aware I had. Apparently, I was upset as well.

"That is excessive, Mello! If Matt had saved you, regardless of the consequences, you would have been grateful to him! The only difference here is that despite everything, you still want to maintain a contest between us that I never even consented to!" He jumped back. I had not been loud, but it was probably surprising to hear me raise my voice at all. Then he leaned back into my face.

"You didn't consent to a fight; you challenged me to one!"

"By getting better grades than you? Give up your childish jealousy, Mello!" He turned to the side, where Anya was staring, and Gevanni had just arrived. Both had drawn guns, but neither seemed to know what to do.

"Anya, leave." She closed her mouth, nodded and left. Mello looked expectantly at me, but I was unwilling to order Gevanni to leave when I was the one at a physical disadvantage. "Near, tell Gevanni to leave."

"No."

"Do it!"

"No."

"Fine." He was calm again, and climbed off of me. He wasn't even unnecessarily rough, although he did put pressure on the bruise on my chest again. I flinched, but was able to restrain a small moan of pain. Although there hadn't been much force, I had been fool enough to strap him down fully dressed. I believe his shoes had steel toes.

Mello left, presumably to his room. I fought the feeling that I had made yet another mistake.

"Fortify the building, Gevanni, or begin the search for a more defendable location. The mafia will be pursuing us, with the intent of killing both Mello and myself."

_**A/N: So I finally updated. I could give you more excuses, but those are getting pretty old, aren't they? I've learned my lesson; I won't make any more update related promises. Really, fanfiction just isn't my biggest priority anymore, and life. . .tends not to be respectful of my hobbies. **_

_**Tallen, my dear, I've been really enjoying your reviews, and it kills me when I get these lovely, long, anonymous reviews that I can't reply to, ask questions about or thank you for. To you and to all of my anonymous reviewers, I would love if you ever got the chance to shoot me an email. **_

_**Chana080310 gmail . com**_

_**My reviews continue to be amazing, and I am so grateful to everyone who pitches in. Now that we've passed 200, I should let you all know that the 250**__**th**__** reviewer will be getting a one shot. But here's the catch. If the 250**__**th**__** review is lame, it'll just be the next decent review. It doesn't have to be an essay, but it wouldn't be fair if an "Update soon!" got a one-shot when I have several thoughtful and eloquent reviewers who haven't gotten anything. **_

_**Anyways, I'm halfway through the next chapter, so I actually should be updating soon, but no promises this time. **_


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